Royal Flush A Cardtalia Tale
by Skeptikitten
Summary: The Fools are abroad, and the Wheel of Fortune turns once again in the Kingdoms of Hoyle.  When an ancient prophecy begins to come to fruition, will the new King of Spades bring Death or Rebirth to the World?  Eventual USUK, based on Rider-Waite Tarot.
1. Prologue

WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-PASTA-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING

My stories are usually based primarily around yaoi pairings, which means boy-boy, homosexual pairings. If you don't like it, don't read it- it's that simple. Please don't complain or flame, as you have been warned.

Hetalia Axis Powers/Hetalia World Powers is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya, Studio Deen, and Funimation. All stories are purely for entertainment purposes, and I am so not worth suing.

WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-BEER-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING

_**Introductory Chapter from **__**A History of Ancient Hoyle, **__**written by Wang Shao, Jack of the Kingdom of Spades, in the year 2465 of the Kingdom Era and found in the Royal Library of the Kingdom of Spades. **_

_The arrangement of the world of Hoyle into the modern Kingdoms had its roots in the Warring Tribes period of some three millennia ago. At this time, there were no formal nations or governments, and the people organized themselves into small clans or tribes. These units were usually related by blood or bond, and any alliances between neighboring tribes were often tenuous or temporary as a matter of design. It was a savage time; the average life expectancy of this era (known as the Ancient Era or "Before Kingdom") was less than forty years and culture was crude or nonexistent. _

_Though the exact year of their descent is unknown, it is certain that by the year 20 BKE the Gods had completely left the Realm of the Stars to walk amongst men. A scroll from this time period, written by the High Holy Priest Benedek H__éderváry recounts the Council of Hoyle, held by the Gods with the heads of each major clan and tribe in attendance. Though each Kingdom today possesses many accounts of the Council and the Edicts that followed from it, the Priest's account is the most complete._

_According to Héderváry, the Gods had come to terrestrial Hoyle because the constant wars created a cacophony that resonated throughout the Aether Realm and weakened the magic of the deities therein. The Four Elements, the most powerful and magical of the Pantheon of twenty-two, descended first to determine the origin of the disturbance; upon finding the world in utter chaos and the development of any sort of civilization ground to a halt, they called upon their brethren to join them and decide a course of action. The result was the Council of Hoyle, held in what is now known as the "Hierophant's City"; because this council was held before the Kingdoms were formed, Hierophant City is one of the few neutral areas in all of Hoyle. The Basilica of Thoth was built on the site of the original gathering, and her priests still, to this day, surrender their Suit upon entry so as to be purely devoted to the Gods. _

_The exact discussions of the Council are lost to time, but the Edicts handed down are quite clear. The people of Hoyle were to be gathered into four great Kingdoms, each patronized by one of the four Elements. These nations were formed entirely based upon the quality of the soul of each individual human, and thus many clans and family lines were scattered across all four. Those former allegiances were invalidated, and the nationality of each human came to be called his or her "Suit"._

_The first to choose her people was the Moon, avatar of Water and ruler of emotion, love, and spirituality. Hers were the people whose souls dwelt in the realm of the heart- the empathetic, the spiritual, and the compassionate. But with those came the self-involved, the antipathetic, and the spiteful. The Children of the Moon took the lands of the West, the shores of the Sea of Eros and its myriad islands. They were called "The Cups", though this suit was renamed Hearts in the Tower Wars. Each member of this Suit bears a red heart marking on his or her left upper breast._

_Next to choose was the Sun, avatar of Fire and ruler of wisdom, industriousness, and enthusiasm. His were the people whose souls dwelt in the realm of the spirit- the creative, the passionate, and the men of action. But with those came the naïve, the ashamed, and the pessimistic. The Children of the Sun took the lands to the South, the fertile valleys and farmlands of Hoyle. They were called "The Wands", renamed to Clubs in the Tower Wars. Each member of this Suit bears a green clover marking in the well of his or her throat._

_Third to choose was the Empress, avatar of Earth and ruler of health, wealth, and physicality. Hers were those whose souls dwelt in the realm of the home and hearth- the honest, the charitable, and the loyal. But with those came the confused, the anxious, and the fearful. The Children of the Empress took the lands to the East, sunny grasslands bordering the Sea of Demeter. They were known as "The Pentacles", later renamed Diamonds. Each member of this Suit bears a golden diamond marking on his or her right palm._

_Last to choose was the most powerful of all- Death. Avatar of the Air, he ruled adversity, challenge, transformation, and time. His were those whose souls dwelt in the realm of the mind- the powerful, the free, the brilliant, and the victorious. But with those came the arrogant, the vulnerable, and the cruel. The Children of Death, also known as Children of the Spirit King, took the lands to the North, the high mountains and snow-covered forests. The greatest warriors in all of Hoyle were found among these, and thus they came to be known as "The Swords", changed later to Spades. Each member of this Suit bears an indigo spade marking underneath his or her right eye. _

_The central area of the continent was decreed to be a neutral zone, belonging to no Kingdom or Suit, and ruled over by the World for She was the balance of all elements. It was at this point that Héderváry was chosen to act as "Hierophant", or High Priest, to the Gods. He and his would be of no nation, but serve only to be keepers of the Faith and of prophecy, and to form the court that would oversee international discord. Each priest, upon entering any of the Twenty-Two Orders, would bear a bi-colored star marking in place of his or her Suit marking; all priests and adepts would become truly neutral and surrender allegiance to their previous Suit even if serving in their home country's temples. A citadel was to be built on the very spot of the Council, the World decreed, and all nations would help in its construction. Each Kingdom was also to have a temple in the city to their patron god, and to house their representatives to the Hierophant. These four would become known as the Hierophantic Ambassadors. The year the citadel was completed, twenty years after the Council of Hoyle, became designated as the start of a new era; the Kingdom Era. _

_Finally, it was decreed that a triad of royalty would rule each Kingdom- a Jack, a Queen, and a King. These positions would not be hereditary or dependent on gender or marriage; rather, a set of holy relics given by the gods to each Suit would select the best candidate in the Kingdom by resonating with his or her soul. The soul of the chosen royal would be bound to that relic, and his or her suit marking would change to reflect that merger. These artifacts would grant unnaturally long life to those who served their kingdom well…and take it from those who did not. It was of little surprise to the people that those chosen as the First Royalty were those of prominent clans, clans who had stayed concentrated mostly in a single suit, for these were the embodiment of the qualities of their gods. _

_The First Royalty of Hearts were from the Vargas Clan (as Jack), the Honda Clan (as Queen), and the Beillschmidt Clan (as King). For Clubs, it was the Edelstein Clan, the Héderváry Clan, and the Braginski Clan; for Diamonds the Zwingli Clan (for both Jack and Queen, a set of twins) and the Bonnefoy Clan. Spades, however, became instantly unstable for the selection of its Royalty. The first Jack of Spades was of the Clan Wang, powerful merchants and traders of the East. That tribe had been in a near constant state of war with the tribe that yielded the first Queen- Clan Kirkland, dark sorcerers and practitioners of the arcane. Most troublesome politically was the first King of Spades, a man from the Jones Clan. Known for their extreme strength and prowess as warriors, the Jones Clan was feared throughout Hoyle. Interestingly, the most chilling of their attributes was said to be their smiles; warriors of the Jones clan were said to wear maniacal grins in battle, laughing and joking amongst themselves as if they were frolicking children rather than hardened mercenaries. Clan Jones never fought for themselves, but rather leased themselves out for hire, waging war for any tribe wealthy (or desperate) enough to pay their price. They were particularly despised by both Clan Wang and Clan Kirkland, and the First Hierophant remarked in his annals that he had been terrified that the newly-formed Kingdom of Spades would fall apart before ever truly beginning, plunging the continent into war once more._

_The Hierophant was wrong. Despite their differences and initial prejudices, the First Royalty of Spades turned out to be the most successful dynasty ever to rule in Hoyle. Their strengths and weaknesses complimented those of their counterparts, and eventually the triad learned not only to respect one another, but to love one another as family. Together, they built a nation of sophisticated technology and industry that also boasted the most powerful army in all four kingdoms. Their reign, known now as the Golden Age of Spades, lasted for four hundred and thirty five years. _

_In 415 KE, agents under the employ of the Royal Court of Clubs entered Spades Kingdom clandestinely and assassinated the whole of the Jones Clan including Rane the Great, using a combination of poisons so as to avoid their famed strength. No man, woman, or child was spared in this purge, though rumors persisted that three of the King's great (many times over) grandchildren escaped; their bodies were never found. In a grief-stricken rage, Queen Berne Kirkland and Jack Wang Wen did not bother to take their case to the Hierophantic Courts, but rather declared war outright on the Kingdom of Clubs. At a mystical and tactical disadvantage without a King (as Spadille, the King's pocket-watch, had not yet chosen a new monarch), Spades enlisted Diamonds as ally, due to close ties between the House of Kirkland and the House of Bonnefoy. Clubs drew Hearts into the struggle on their own side, playing on the isolated kingdom's fear of the seemingly limitless power of the Spades monarchy, and what became known as the Tower Wars had begun. _

_Lasting from 415 KE through 506 KE, the Tower Wars plunged the continent into a chaos that had not existed since the Warring States Era. Far more advanced industry and weaponry yielded a devastating death toll in this engagement, however- a full one quarter of the people of Hoyle died in the Wars themselves, with a further thirty percent of the survivors cut down by famine and poverty in the aftermath. Neither side was able to claim victory, and both the Queen and Jack of Spades lost their lives in the process; the Hierophantic Courts once more stepped in to restore order. Each of the Suits was renamed, an attempt to detach the Kingdoms from their past identities and grudges, though a chilly enmity has remained between Spades and Clubs to this day. _

_Never again has the Kingdom of Spades seen a Kirkland and a Wang on any of the royal thrones at the same time, and no sign was ever found of the continuance of the Jones bloodline. However, a most curious prophecy was delivered by the adepts of the goddess of the Aether, the Star, at the end of the Tower Wars, verified by the priests of the Temple of Thoth. When three kingdoms hold a Royal Flush, the Rose and the Peony will retake their former thrones, so they say; a fallen star will return to the sky and lightning will strike the Tower again. The Wheel of Fortune will spin, and the eagle will carry the new future on his wings, for good or for ill._

_Only the first portion of this prophecy is clear. A Kingdom is said to have a "Royal Flush" when the House of each of its reigning royalty is aligned with that of the First Royals, chosen by the Gods themselves. As of today, there has only been one Royal Flush in the history of Hoyle- the reigning King, Queen, and Jack of the current Kingdom of Clubs are of the House of Braginski, __Héderváry, and Edelstein respectively.__ As the Rose and the Peony are the symbols of the House of Kirkland and the House of Wang, the implication is that if Clubs, Diamonds, and Hearts simultaneously possess a Royal Flush, the Kingdom of Spades will follow suit in as far as it can. Though many interpretations for the latter portions exist (including the rather far-fetched notion that the Jones Clan will somehow resurrect itself and all four Kingdoms will mirror the First Royalty), the Basilica has ranked this prophecy as undetermined and unfulfilled. _

NOTES:

This will be a Cardtalia story, based on Himaruya's Arte Stella drawings of the same. Considering that his original drawings and choices for the face card characters match the symbolism of color and personality depicted by the Rider-Waite Tarot, I will be using that as the basis for the mythology of the World of Hoyle. The twenty-two Gods are based on the cards of the Major Arcana, while the Suit cards will be based on the Minor Arcana.

Major Arcana cards mentioned in this chapter: The Moon, The Sun, The Stars, The Wheel of Fortune, The World, The Empress, Death, The Hierophant, and The Tower.

This story will be eventual USUK/UKUS, with a possible side pairing of PruCan and mentions of GerIta, AusHun, and a few others. I will be assigning Suits to those nations who did not appear in the Arte Stella drawings basically however I feel will move the plot. I will also be drawing a map of the Kingdoms of Hoyle to accompany this work.


	2. Chapter One

WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-PASTA-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING

My stories are usually based primarily around yaoi pairings, which means boy-boy, homosexual pairings. If you don't like it, don't read it- it's that simple. Please don't complain or flame, as you have been warned.

Hetalia Axis Powers/Hetalia World Powers is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya, Studio Deen, and Funimation. All stories are purely for entertainment purposes, and I am so not worth suing.

WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-BEER-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING

_**Excerpt from Chapter Two of **__**The Government of the Kingdom of Spades**__**, a primer for students of Spades Kingdom entering Dagda Academy in the capitol city of Merica.**_

_While their particular talents and specialties are unique to each sovereign, the Royalty of each Kingdom serves the same primary functions; The Jack serves as Administrator, the Queen as Counselor, and the King as Commander. In addition, each Kingdom has a special duty assigned to each Royal that corresponds to the talents of the First Royalty of that land._

_The duties of the Jack of any Kingdom are varied and complex, and mostly tied to the economy of the land. He or she is in charge of public works, agriculture, commerce, finance, and taxation. In the Kingdom of Spades, the Jack is also the official Court Historian; many of the seminal writings of the history and politics of Hoyle were penned by former Spades Jacks, particularly those from the House of Wang. _

_The duties of the Queen are more tied to the state of the people themselves. He or she oversees education, religion, and culture (including music, art, and literature), and is in charge of international and diplomatic relations. In Spades, the Queen is also Court Magician; never has a candidate for this position been selected by Chrona (the Queen's Clock) that was not a powerful mage and master of the arcane arts. For this reason, more Queens have been of the House of Kirkland than any other lineage. The Queen also bears the dire responsibility of assuming the duties of the King of Spades should that monarch die and no immediate successor be chosen by Spadille, the King's Pocket Watch. As such, the Queen of Spades is the only other mortal who can touch Spadille without having the life ripped out of him or her. _

**The Last Day of the Month of Dumannios, Year 4350 Kingdom Era**

_**The Royal Palace of Spades in the city of Merica**_

Arthur Kirkland was in hiding. The various palace servants and petty functionaries that had been seeking him out all morning had thus-far neglected to check the small ready room attached to the Great Hall, a dire bit of stupidity on their part, he mused. If there was anything Arthur needed to do before the ceremony tonight, it was ready himself.

_Fuck Dylan anyway for leaving me in this atrocious mess, _he thought spitefully. _If I could raise the dead, I'd do it just so I could kill him myself. With all the rumors flying around the Kingdom, the last thing we needed was the death of the King. And at such an inauspicious time, too._

Not that rumors hasn't been circulating ever since he was crowned Queen of Spades eight years ago. Even the nobility had begun whispering of prophecies and omens, and Arthur couldn't really blame them. The political system in Hoyle was in an uproar, unprecedented events occurring in every Kingdom. It had begun seventy years prior, with the advent of the first Royal Flush in nearly two thousand years in the Kingdom of Clubs. Shockingly, Hearts had followed just twenty years later, and most recently Diamonds. The last was a particularly sour thought, causing Arthur's lips to twist into a scowl. Francis Bonnefoy may have been crowned King of Diamonds just a decade previous, but Arthur had known and despised the perverted nobleman since birth. He sighed despondently, resting his hands on the glass of the small window overlooking the palace courtyard. The chill from the pane seeped into his fingers, numbing them to the bone, but Arthur was oblivious. The miserable sleet coming down in droves outside the portal and thoughts of Francis brought to mind the only time Arthur had been truly happy in his life, and how it had all been ripped away from him.

_15__th__ Day of Giamonios, 4338 Kingdom Era_

_Village of Albion, Spades Kingdom _

"_Honhonhon…look what we 'ave here, Tonio. It iz little Arthur and 'is not-so-little eyebrows. What are you doing all the way out here?"_

_Arthur scowled up at the slender teenaged blonde looming over the magic circle he was inscribing in the mud of the riverbank. The boy was dressed far too richly for the countryside, and was frowning disapprovingly at his damaged shoes; his darker companion, on the other hand, sported a bright smile- with a sharp edge. _

"_I actually live in Spades, you twit. Shouldn't you and your affected accent be on the other side of the Quadrille?"_

_Francis snorted delicately. "My father 'as business in Albion, arranging a shipment to Merica. And what I meant was what are you doing out of ze Capitol?"_

"_None of your business." Arthur's response was curt, but his fisted hands shook at his sides. The hard truth was that Arthur had been banished to the Kirkland family's country home near the border to Diamonds just a week previous. His tutors at Cerridwen Academy had all agreed that Arthur's magical potential was great, perhaps the greatest seen in Spades in centuries- and he had the Sight. His resistance to authority, foul mouth, and propensity for fisticuffs, however, got him expelled. His father, humiliated and fed up with the exact same behavior at home, had sent Arthur away; he was now at the mercy of private tutors and overbearing servants, away from his five brothers and all he had ever known. A tear slipped down Arthur's cheek before he could stop himself._

"_Hey, is the little brat actually crying?" Antonio snickered, clearly feeling quite superior at fourteen to eleven-year-old Arthur. _

"_He iz!" Francis crowed. "I did not think 'e even knew how, ze little dictator." _

_Arthur let loose with an impressive string of curse words, followed up with a handful of mud flung across the chest of Francis' expensive waistcoat. A nasty smile crossed the eldest boy's handsome face then. _

"_Perhaps we should give 'im something to cry about, shall we?"_

_Only a few hits actually landed before a small blur had launched itself between the boys from Diamonds and Arthur; Francis was actually thrown far enough to land in the shallows of the river itself. Arthur stared incredulously at the form of his savior, now standing protectively in front of him with his hands folded across his chest._

_It was a child. Barely out of toddlerhood, even- the top of his blonde head only came up to Arthur's ribcage. The boy was growling fiercely at Francis as the teen dragged himself out of the river, covered in mud and weeds with his beloved golden locks in sodden clumps around his dumbstruck face. _

"_Why dontcha pick on someone your own size, bully?"_

_Silence reigned for a moment at the ridiculous statement before something marvelous occurred- Arthur laughed. He hadn't laughed in ages, and yet now he was choking on his giggles, doubling over and clutching his sides to regain his breath. The whole situation was just absurd! This child, this baby, was actually challenging a fifteen-year-old nobleman literally twice his size. Francis, on the other hand, was not amused. He charged up the riverbank with clenched hands, snarling lowly through his teeth and glaring at the boy with fire-filled eyes. He snatched up the child's shirtfront before Arthur could properly protest, but to his amazement the tiny lad picked Francis up __**over his head**__ and hurled him bodily back into the water- over twenty feet away. By the time Arthur had picked his jaw up off the ground, Antonio had drawn a dagger from his belt to retaliate. He never reached the boy._

_For a moment, Arthur was certain he was seeing double. A second child, near identical to the first, was now standing with an arm around the waist of his counterpart while Antonio had joined his friend in the Quadrille. _

"_Aw, Mattie, I coulda handled that pansy."_

"_I know. But I'd never let anyone hurt you Al," the new boy (apparently Mattie) whispered. The other (Al?) nuzzled his cheek affectionately against the neck of what was most likely his twin._

"_Love ya, Mattie."_

"_Love you too, Al." _

"_Excuse me," Arthur interrupted, getting a little miffed at being rescued and then summarily ignored by a pair of tots. _

"_Oh, yeah. Sorry!" Al replied, putting a hand behind his head in an embarrassed pose. "Sorry. You okay now? I mean, those jerks were gonna kick your ass but good." Arthur started to splutter indignantly, but the child had focused his attention on the now-smeared circle on the bank. "Is that a magic circle? If you're a magician, how come ya didn't just use your magic to beat them up?"_

"_Magic is not meant to be used in such a crude way," Arthur sniffed regally, tossing his head. The boy grinned widely. _

"_Then how come they got magicians in the army, huh?" he challenged. Then he must have seen something of the rage building in Arthur's face, because his smile melted to something softer, almost admiring. "You must be pretty good, though. That circle's got three layers. Uncle Gil says anything more than two is high-level stuff. And you've got bright green eyes, too, and he says those are only found on true mages. I'm sorry that you seem kinda mad I protected you and stuff, but I'm gonna be a hero someday and heroes protect damsels in distress. And you're not a damsel 'cause you're a boy and all, but you're super pretty so I thought maybe it counted?"_

"_Pr-pretty?" Arthur stammered, floored. Certainly no one had ever referred to him as pretty before, even if it was in a rambling, half-nonsensical way. In fact, no one had ever so much as called him presentable; his eyebrows and messy hair were usually the first and last topics of discussion regarding his appearance._

"_Pretty? Arthur? Apparently you are either an idiot or tasteless," Francis snapped, having finally righted himself and his companion and joined the trio on the shore. "__**Antonio**__ iz pretty. __**I**__ am gorgeous. Arthur iz a ridiculous eyebrow monster."_

_Al simply snorted. "Nuh-uh. __**He**__ looks kinda stupid, and __**you**__ look like one of those creepy guys Ma says to stay away from in the market." He turned huge eyes onto Arthur, who for the first time noticed their clear, luminous shade of blue. He had never seen any eyes quite that shade before, like a summer sky. The boy's sunny expression returned as he veritably beamed…at Arthur of all people! "You're the prettiest person I've ever met! Your eyes remind me of the forest in the springtime, and when you laughed you just lit up!"_

_Arthur's cheeks flared crimson and so did Francis', though the latter was pure indignation. "I am not 'creepy'; I am ze most beautiful man in Diamonds! And you are clearly both an idiot __**and**__ tasteless if you find Arthur in any way pleasing to ze eye!"_

"_Pssht. You are too creepy- especially that weird sorta beard you've got!" Al declared, nodding his head for emphasis. "And you're a coward. Only cowards gang up on someone smaller like you did. It's lucky the heroic Williams brothers were here to stop you!"_

"_Williams, iz it? Be assured my father will hear of zis, and you shall find yourself in ze stocks or worse, little 'ero, for assaulting your betters."_

"_Nuh-uh," Al responded again, patting his brother's hand as the boy made a quiet, distressed noise. "Cause then you'd hafta tell people that two little kids kicked your butts. That's pretty embarrassing, huh?"_

_The sly look on the child's face made Arthur break out into a fresh bout of laughter. "He's certainly got you there Francis. Imagine the look on your father's face when he finds out his heir and the infamous son of House Carriedo were trounced by a pair of cherubs."_

_Arthur had the great satisfaction of watching Francis chew his lip in frustration before turning on his heel and flouncing off towards town, Antonio in tow. "That…was beautiful. Just beautiful." He turned then to the grinning twins, now holding hands and looking up at Arthur a bit shyly. "My apologies, I was rude in not thanking you straight away for your assistance. It wasn't gentlemanly of me."_

_Arthur executed a flawless, courtly bow, taking the boys' joined hands in his own and bending low over them. "My name is Arthur of the House of Kirkland, and I am newly arrived here in Albion to live in our manor house. And you are, my saviors?"_

_Cheeks ruddy with flattered embarrassment, the leader of the two puffed his chest up proudly. "I'm Alfred Williams, and this is my twin brother Matthew." The other boy gave a sweet, hesitant nod. "And we're gonna be best friends- I just know it."_

Arthur closed his eyes in bittersweet resignation. They had indeed, as Alfred proclaimed, become "best friends", despite a four year age gap. Arthur had spent three and a half years in Albion, and he held those times greedily to his heart like a precious jewel. He and the twins had become inseparable, spending long days playing in the Ardennes forest after Arthur's lessons and the boys' chores were done; he had become a regular fixture at the quaint cottage on the outskirts of town where young widow Emily Williams raised her children alone. She had become more of a mother than Arthur's own, always ready with open arms, fresh cookies, and a brilliant smile sparkling in her kind blue eyes just for him. Emily treated Arthur as though he were a third son, and taught him all manner of useful things his family would have found low and disgraceful for a male of the line- embroidery, knitting, and baking (though his enjoyment of this last far outweighed his skill). Even his servants and tutors looked the other way when Arthur came home covered in mud and leaves, charmed by the twins' effulgent smiles and bright laughter. And they helped each other learn, too; Al and Matt didn't just teach Arthur how to play like a child again, but also how to hunt and fish, how to find food in the forest, how to bargain in the market, and how to fight bare-handed. In return, Arthur taught the boys history, fencing, language, and the rudiments of magic. Matthew seemed to have a gift for the arcane, while Alfred excelled at anything involving sports or weaponry, though both boys were talented all around. He had been quite surprised at that, having been told all his life that these skills separated the nobility from the common man. That, perhaps, was the best lesson the Williams family had impressed upon him- an end to his snobbery. As Queen, Arthur was the embodiment of the people of Spades and he had tried his utmost best to represent _all_ of those people in his reign. He hoped, in the secret recesses of his guarded heart, that his beloved ones were proud of him; that he had kept the promise he made to them when he left. The promise he made to Alfred.

_Early Cutios, 4342 Kingdom Era_

_Village of Albion, Spades Kingdom_

"_Why do you hafta go?" Alfred whined, both he and his brother clutching the front of Arthur's vest in their strong hands. "Why does it gotta be you?"_

"_Because I've been chosen by Chrona, Alfred. You know I don't have a choice, the ways of the Gods are not our own," Arthur replied, his voice choking slightly. He ran his hands over Alfred's golden hair, marveling not for the first time at the boy's recent growth spurt; Alfred's head came to just under Arthur's chin now, his shoulders already beginning to broaden. His eyes met Emily's watery ones over his double armful of twins, her expression caught between sadness and pride. Their time was short now, the Royal Guard already beginning to shift uneasily behind the small family. Arthur had refused to leave for Merica without saying goodbye, and teenager or not he was their newly appointed Queen. _

"_We're never going to see you again…are we?" Matthew whispered. _

_Alfred began to cry, hiding his face in Arthur's neck as the tears began to spill silently from his own puffy eyes. "Probably not, dear ones. Oh, I'll miss you so, both of you. I'll never forget you, I swear."_

"_I love you, Arthur. I'll never forget you either. You'll…be in our hearts forever!" Matthew managed, squeezing him fiercely before running off to his mother's arms, weeping openly. That left only Alfred, Alfred who had been his shadow, his constant companion for nearly four years. While he truly adored both of the twins, Matthew had still been reserved even with him. Alfred, on the other hand, had never left Arthur's side from the day that they had met; the two had a special bond, spending many a night alone by the riverbank, lying in each other's arms, counting the stars and whispering secrets in each other's ears. How would he live without this light in his life? How would he spend the remainder of his cold days without his sunshine?_

"_Alfred…"_

"_I…I have something for ya, Arthur," Alfred said, lifting his miserable face to the elder boy's. "I was gonna wait a few years to give it to ya, so I could ask ya proper. I'll never get to now, but this way you'll remember me always."_

"_Oh poppet, I don't need any trinket to remember you always," Arthur soothed, his heart breaking in two. "You're in my heart as I'm in yours, darling." _

_Alfred shook his head firmly, rummaging into his pocket and shoving the contents into Arthur's fingers, closing both hands around them. Arthur opened his hand carefully, and drew a sharp breath. In the well of his palm was Alfred's most prized possession- the only thing he had left of his father. The man had died when the boys were only three, drowned in the rough current of the Quadrille while saving the passengers of a capsized merchant ship. The Williams family was poor, but Alfred's father had one family heirloom, passed down for so many generations its origin was lost- a heavy golden ring, carved with magical runes that even Arthur could not decipher and set with a perfect star sapphire of a blue so deep it was nearly indigo. As the elder twin Alfred had inherited the ring, which he wore around his neck on a leather thong. He had never seen the boy without it. _

"_Alfred, I can't take this! It's your treasure- your inheritance!"_

"_It was gonna be yours anyway when I asked ya to marry me, Arthur," Alfred said stubbornly, shaking his head and reaching up to tie the thong around Arthur's own neck. He could feel his face starting to flame as the boy clumsily pressed his lips to Arthur's own, burying his face in his collarbone right after to hide his innocent blush. _

"_Your Majesty…" the head of the guard interrupted with a polite cough. "We __**must**__ go."_

"_Yes…" Arthur stammered. "I know." He clutched the boy to his heart, clinging as though he could meld Alfred into his own body if he tried. "I love you, Alfred. You have given me a happiness I never thought I'd know. Please remember that."_

_Alfred nodded, his breath hitching. "You'll make us proud, Arthur. You'll be the greatest Queen of Spades ever, I know it. I just wish I coulda stayed with ya to be your hero." Then he tore himself out of Arthur's arms to hurl himself into his mother's bosom with his twin. _

"_I promise," he said to the small family who had been his refuge, his teacher, his joy. "I promise you'll all be proud of me." Arthur wrapped his hand around the warm metal of the heavy ring at his throat. "Goodbye…and thank you."_

_As he turned towards his horse, the irritating guard helping him to mount the magnificent black stallion, he heard Alfred's voice call out to him once more. _

"_Arthur! Would ya have said yes? If I coulda asked ya?"_

_Silver tracks streaked down his cheeks, but Arthur did not turn around to face the child lest he break entirely. "Yes, Alfred Williams. I would have been honored to marry you."_

A wet droplet hit Arthur's hand, then another and another, becoming a soft waterfall of sorrowful memories echoing the dreary rain outside. His Alfred, his little hero- how he missed the boy! It had been eight years since he had become Queen, yet he still thought of Alfred every single day. He wondered idly if the child (_not a child, he'd be a man of nineteen now)_ remembered him at all. He wondered whether the boy had grown as tall as his father had been (_a near legend in the town, over six feet tall with shoulders like an ox_), whether he had kept his stunning looks, whether he was married or starting a family. The last thought made his heart turn to granite in his chest, a ridiculous reaction at best. The boy had a life to live and they could not do so together- his childish proposal had been just that. Arthur himself would have to marry eventually, to produce an heir to the line as his brothers were doing- he was already receiving some not-so-subtle "advice" from his parents and the Jack on that score. An unmarried Queen was seen as bad luck in Spades, since he or she formed the more emotional connection to the land and the people. Of course, Arthur's detached and ferociously moody personality scared off most potential suitors in the first place. Not that it mattered, since the few brave souls who attempted to court Arthur were always held up against a shining memento in the young Queen's mind; a remembrance of eyes that shone like blue topaz, of a ready smile and lilting laugh, of an idealistic soul that wished to save everyone it came across, from stray kittens to lost travelers to overburdened shoppers in the market. And against that phantom those suitors were found _wanting_.

Arthur let his eyes stray up to the large oil portraits of the First Royalty on the wall, their greatness seeming to dwarf him even from within their gilt frames. As usual it was Berne Kirkland, original Queen of Spades, that first caught his attention. He could see himself in her sandy, windblown hair, her spring green eyes, and the stubborn set of her pointed chin. He also shared her delicate, almost elfin facial features and porcelain skin- as a teenager he had finally grown into the "prettiness" Alfred had claimed he bore from the start. Berne, however, had not been cursed with the now-famous (infamous?) Kirkland eyebrows. Arthur sighed, running a finger over the edge of her frame. Already he was being compared to this inimitable monarch. Their names had the same meaning in the Old Tongue ("bear"), and they were both considered unifiers and champions of the lower classes. She had also been a sorceress of the highest caliber, and Arthur's skills in the arcane had grown fearsome…if still a touch unpredictable at times. He sent a silent prayer to his ancestress, begging for her wisdom and fortitude in the troubled days to come. Next he contemplated Wang Wen, ultimate ancestor of the current Jack Wang Yao; Arthur could see his co-ruler in the doll-like perfection of her face too, and in her sepia eyes. To her, Arthur sent a prayer for wisdom and calm certitude.

The last portrait was the one that Arthur often contemplated when his spirits seemed especially low- Rane the Great, First King of Spades. It was no secret to Arthur why this royal caught his attention so; his wheat-gold hair, his cerulean eyes, the devil-may-care smirk on his full lips all screamed _Alfred_ to his heart. Even his name, _Rane,_ had the same meaning as _Alfred _in the Old Tongue- "counselor". He liked to sit on the floor in front of this painting, heedless of his fine garments, and pretend that Rane Jones was really his Alfred grown to manhood. In the dark watches of night, when the castle lay sleeping and still, Arthur would use his magic to slip around the guards and into the ready room. All of his secrets, his worries and his fears, were shared with the portrait as though it were a gateway to his old friend. It was here that he had cried the first time he and Dylan had fought, just days after Arthur's coronation- and every time after. It was here that Arthur ran when Yao treated him like an unruly child. And it was here that he blushingly confessed that he had never allowed another to kiss him since his lips had been graced by those of his little lost sunshine. To Rane he offered a single fervent wish.

"Let my Alfred be happy, wherever he is. At least one of us will be."

"Who is Alfred?"

Arthur jumped a good foot in the air at the calm voice only a pace behind him.

"Don't do that, you stupid sod!" he snapped, throwing his hands on his hips and drawing his impressive brows into a menacing glare. Wang Yao was unfazed.

"You are being irresponsible, Arthur. You are no longer a child, and you cannot continue to act like one. The funeral procession is in less than an hour and you are hiding with these old portraits. Again."

The disdain was clear in the Jack's voice as he lectured Arthur, his arms folded over his chest. Wang Yao was a full hand span shorter than Arthur's own unimpressive height, but something in his demeanor made him seem to loom over those who incurred his wrath. The man had a lovely, almost feminine face and a neat ponytail of chocolate hair, with skin as flawless as a maiden's. His eyes, however, told his true age; Yao had been the Jack of Spades for 137 years, crowned at thirteen and never aging a day after his sixteenth birthday. Such was the sign of the favor of the Gods, that a just Royal could remain young and hale for hundreds of years if he or she served the Suit well. It was still rare to see a reign as long as Yao's, and the weight of his decades of acumen and experience made Arthur feel insignificant. The two had never gotten along, their clans having old enmities tracing back to the second millennium of the Kingdom Era, and the Jack never failed to take Arthur to task when he showed his immaturity. It didn't help matters that Arthur was still aging normally, and very aware of it. He was coming up on his twenty-fourth birthday in a few moons, and knew that if he did not begin to distinguish himself further Chrona would continue to tick away for him.

"The portraits don't lecture me," he sniped. "Let me be, Yao."

"It is no secret that you and Dylan hated each other," Yao remarked, tilting his head up to study his ancestor's image. "I would think that this funeral would hardly be difficult for you to preside over, considering. Now there will be a chance for a new King, a new start for us all."

"Dylan was an elitist, war-mongering prick but that doesn't mean I wished him dead. He was killed by Spadille, Yao. We haven't had a King removed by the implements in a millennium," Arthur replied. He slipped his hand into the right pocket of his heavy coat, lifting the King's Watch free to sit in his open palm. "And now I have to carry the bloody thing until it chooses another."

Yao peered at the golden watch distrustfully. The Queen of Spades was in a unique position in Hoyle in possessing the ability to touch another Royal's implement, albeit only upon the death of the King of Spades, an action that usually spelled instant death. He or she then had the responsibility of carrying Spadille until it chose another King, usually by beginning to keep time again in his presence. Until that choosing, Arthur would have the onus of the King's duties in addition to his own- including control of the army, always a sore spot between Dylan and Arthur. He ran his thumb gently over the crystal casing, forehead creased in thought.

"It used to feel so cold," Yao remarked. Like Arthur, he possessed the Sight though in lesser measure than the Queen. "As though it were encased in a layer of ice that burned the spirit. But now…"

"Yes," Arthur agreed, closing his fingers over the face, feeling the unique spade-shape of the timepiece cut into his hand. "It feels warm. Almost as though it…likes me."

The Jack snorted, an undignified sound he would never let out in front of anyone but his fellow ruler.

"Belt it, they're at least somewhat sentient!"

"Perhaps it means the new King will actually be able to deal with your horrid temper," Yao chuckled. "Come, Arthur. We must go to the courtyard; all of Merica is lining the streets for Dylan's journey to the catacombs, and then some." A distraught expression flashed through his honey eyes then, quickly covered up by his usual mask of calm as he led Arthur through the Great Hall. "The whispers are growing louder, my friend. They hiss of prophecy and old magic, and of the Gods abroad on the earth again. For all of our sakes, I hope the new King appears soon, and that he is relatively mundane."

Arthur laughed, a slightly hysterical sound that echoed off the cold stones and vaulted ceilings of the throne room. "And that he is not Rane the Great returned to life like a phoenix?"

Yao's answering laugh was nearly as strained. "Or a long lost prince of House Jones unearthed from the wilderness?"

In Arthur's trembling hands, Spadille gave a single, resounding "tick".


	3. Chapter Two

WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-TEA-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING

My stories are usually based primarily around yaoi pairings, which means boy-boy, homosexual pairings. If you don't like it, don't read it- it's that simple. Please don't complain or flame, as you have been warned.

Hetalia Axis Powers/Hetalia World Powers is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya, Studio Deen, and Funimation. All stories are purely for entertainment purposes, and I am so not worth suing.

WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-SCONES-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING

_**Excerpt from Chapter Two of **__**The Government of the Kingdom of Spades**__**, a primer for students of Spades Kingdom entering Dagda Academy in the capitol city of Merica.**_

…_The duties of the King, though more limited in scope than those of the Jack or the Queen, carry with them a far greater power. He (for never in the history of Hoyle has there been a female King) is High Commander of the armed forces of his kingdom, and quite often its ultimate warrior. The Kings of Spades are particularly known for their prowess in the arts of war and tactics. He also serves as final arbitrator in the Courts of the land, and Judge in those cases involving the vital functions or safety of the kingdom. Finally, the King of each Suit holds final approval power over all domestic legislation, international treaties, and dealings with Hierophant City. _

_In Spades Kingdom, the King is also the High Priest of Death. This patron god has kept a closer relationship with his mortal children than those of other kingdoms, and has been known to grant extraordinary powers upon favored rulers. He has even, to the dismay of the officials in Hierophant City, been known to act as an advisor of sorts to some few of his chosen Kings including Rane the Great. No King has been thus blessed in two thousand years, and the wide variety of personalities amongst Death's Chosen leave no clue as to what sort of criteria the God uses when selecting his favorites. _

_Perhaps most intriguing of the powers of the Kings of Hoyle is the one that they do __**not**__ possess- the power to wield the Ace of their Suit. The Ace is the mystical weapon given to each of the First Kings by the Gods themselves, said to have melded with their very souls. Though each of the four Aces remains in the Throne Room of the Suits, no King since those first has been able to unlock their secrets. The Ace of Spades is a three-bladed trident known as "Trishula", with each blade representing one aspect of Death: destruction, creation, and balance. Rane the Great was said to have been truly a force of nature when fighting with Trishula and rumors suggest that he was able to access the ultimate aspect of the powers of Death- time- by channeling his spirit through the blades. Many have speculated that these weapons will lay dormant until such time as the Grand Royal Flush of prophecy comes to pass in Hoyle, but this is thus far simply superstition. _

**The Last Day of the Month of Dumannios, Year 4350 Kingdom Era**

_**Capitol City of Merica, Spades Kingdom**_

Three shrouded figures stood in the stinging wind at the foot of Mount Badon, gazing past the massive wrought-iron gates framing the entrance to Merica. The shortest of the trio pulled his indigo mourning cloak tighter around his throat, muttering dire curses at the last vestiges of freezing rain that was quickly turning to ice on every surface. The other two paid no mind, their eyes locked on the glittering city cut into the mountain itself, tiered ramps leading up hundreds of feet to the looming presence of the Royal Palace. Torches lit every inch of the winding pathways, the whole of the city in the streets to witness the procession of their King from the Temple of the Winds at the apex of the citadel to the catacombs cut deep into the earth below. One of the men, broad-shouldered and imposing, turned to his companion with a wry grin.

"So this is Merica. You ready for this?"

"No," replied the other evenly. "You?"

A biting laugh. "Not even a little bit."

"Well tough luck, idiots," grated the third, disgruntled. "For this is the day and this is the hour, for destiny to fulfill its course. Or some shit."

The grin on the first man grew even wider, if a bit manic. "Well, you heard the man. Let's get moving."

As one, the figures blended into the crowd entering the gates.

.

.

Arthur Kirkland, Queen of Spades, stood over the shallow pit containing the body of his King with a great sense of unease. Still, he maintained his icy façade as he and his Jack Wang Yao carefully laid nightshade, wolfsbane, and falcon feathers over the indigo-dyed shroud of Dylan Bruce. His trembling hands were easily hidden in his sweeping formal cloak of heavy blue velvet, lined with white ermine and clasped about his throat with a beaten-silver filigree spade pin; they were the one thing about his person that could betray his inner turmoil. Arthur clenched and unclenched his gloved fingers repeatedly as the priests laid the heavy stones over the pit to make the cairn, laying the cured pine logs overtop. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hands and chanted the spell to light them in a high, clear voice that echoed from the Temple to the city below. Green flame sprang obediently to life, the magical inferno burning a thousand times hotter than a natural blaze and reducing the body to ash in just twenty minutes, rather than hours. He was mesmerized for a moment by the dancing emerald sparks and the long shadows thrown on the cold stone beneath, until Yao cleared his throat meaningfully beside him. Flushing, Arthur turned to the assemblage in the sunken Temple Courtyard- the High Council, the Palace Guard, the clergy of the Temple of the Winds, and the most important of Merica's noble families. Fortunately, their funeral rituals in Spades required enough speed that the Royals from the other Kingdoms would not be in attendance, but rather gather in Merica in a week's time for a reception. Death willing, they would have a new King by then. It would keep him from having to see Bonnefoy twice, at any rate.

"Dylan Bruce, King of Spades. We remember him," Arthur began, taking up the King's duty as High Priest and reciting the funeral prayer. "At the rising of the sun and at its set, we remember him. At the blowing of the wind and the chill of winter, we remember him. At the opening of the buds and the rebirth of spring, we remember him. At the blueness of the sky and the warmth of summer, we remember him. At the rustling of the leaves and the beauty of autumn, we remember him. Today, at the ending of the year and the beginning of a new, we remember him. As long as we live, he too will live, for he is a part of us and we remember him. When we are weary and in need of his strength, we remember him. When we have decisions that are difficult to make, we remember him. When we have achievements that are built on his, we remember him."

"As long as we live, he too will live, for his is a part of us and we remember him," the crowd solemnly intoned.

"We remember him," Arthur repeated, spreading his hands apart, palms down, and dousing the mystical flames. Taking a silver and blue enameled urn from Yao's hands, he then spoke the spell to raise the King's ashes from his pyre and bring them to his final resting place. Capping it tightly, he placed the container onto a specially built palanquin for the procession down the mountain to the catacombs. The Royal party and the priests went first with the King's remains, so no one was in earshot to hear Arthur's exasperated sighs. Well, except…

"That is extremely inappropriate, aru," Yao warned, his East-coast verbal tick irritating Arthur even further. "We are conducting a _funeral_ Arthur. For the love of the Gods, can you not show some respect?"

"I am showing all he deserved, the stupid arse," Arthur muttered. "And I've been perfectly stone-faced until now." He let his eyes slide sideways to the Jack, noting that his face was also smooth and composed, despite his clear ire. "Don't fret so, Yao. I will conduct myself in a manner befitting my station. I'm simply worried about Spadille."

Yao's eyebrows furrowed, though he kept his solemn gaze facing forward as they passed the Temple gates and into the palace grounds to begin the long, convoluted walk through the city. "I do not understand it either. A single tick, when no one was present but the two of us? Unprecedented, and worrying. Perhaps it is malfunctioning?"

"It's an instrument of the Gods; I don't think it _can_ malfunction. And Chrona's still sort of…humming…in its presence, as always." Both men glanced down at the Queen's Clock, now belted at Arthur's waist. Chrona was able to change sizes with Arthur's will, from the breadth of a small table when he performed his magic rituals to the size of a dinner plate when he needed portability. It swung gently at his side on a golden chain attached to a sword-belt, the metal warm to the touch despite the frigid temperature. Chrona had always given him a sense of mental discord when near Spadille before Dylan's death, perhaps a comment on how its owner felt towards his young Queen. However, the last two days that Spadille had been in his own possession had seen the implements resonating strongly with one another, almost as though they were both Arthur's own tools. Spadille, for the procession, was dangling from Arthur's right wrist, the chain wrapped around his leather glove tightly. Traditionally, the Queen must have the King's Watch not only on his person but visible during the interim period before a new royal was chosen, in case the correct candidate should appear. Quite frankly, it was a pain in Arthur's ass.

"Spadille has never chosen a new King so shortly after the death of the previous. The soonest on record was two weeks, the longest seventy years. I do not know what to make of its seeming activation," the elder mused. Arthur sighed again.

"I don't think we should make anything of it. We probably imagined it, and the sound came from somewhere else," he replied. As if to mock him, Spadille began to swing like a scrying crystal, flaring out in a prominent arc whenever it faced the base of the mountain. "Yao…do you see..?"

"Yes, I see it, aru," Yao whispered, fascinated.

"Well what the hell do I _do_?" Arthur sniped, getting frustrated with his companion's distinct lack of the wisdom for which he was famed. Yao shrugged philosophically.

"We're going that way anyway," he quipped, returning his gaze to the crowds lining the streets as they exited the palace grounds. Arthur gritted his teeth and glared at the spinning watch under his palm.

"You're an _ass_."

.

.

The trip to the catacombs seemed interminable. Miles of twisting streets winding their way down the mountainside and a large, formal entourage meant that it took nearly four hours for the journey to Mount Badon's base. Moreover, Arthur's arms were aching from the cold and the strenuous task of reining in Spadille's movements. He hadn't received any more specific directions that those at the beginning- a general nudge "down there" to the throng of citizens gathered in the Festival Square near the city gates. By the time he reached the dais of thrones at the head of the Square, Arthur couldn't have cared less if the new king was his stable boy if Spadille would just _calm down_. He was already in a foul mood, wrung out from his earlier reminiscing and the drain on his magic that the funeral rites had involved.

"Whoever designed this blasted city to be cut into the bloody mountain should be resurrected just so I can kill his stupid arse."

"Be quiet, Arthur," Yao whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "I have to give the public eulogy, and I can't do it with you sitting here glaring like a gargoyle. At least pretend you are civilized, aru."

"_At least try to pretend you're civilized, you little savage," Arthur remarked fondly, ruffling Alfred's hair as he tore into a thick slice of chocolate cake the elder boy had snuck from the kitchens. Alfred simply gave him a mischievous grin and a nip to his ear. "I am a savage. And if ya ain't careful, I might eat ya instead of the cake!"_

"Damn it," Arthur murmured. "Why am I dwelling so much on him today?"

"What?"

"Nothing, Yao. It's just the blasted cold; I'll be fine."

Yao favored him with a skeptical look, but climbed the stairs to the podium anyway, Aeterna's hilt peeking out from his state robes as he did so. It too, seemed strangely vibrant today- Arthur swore he could hear a faint ringing sound every time he came near the Jack's implement. Everything was just _off_; Arthur could taste strange magic in the air, swirling thick as syrup around himself and Yao in particular.

_Don't worry my pretty wizard. All is as it should be._

Arthur went still, numb fingers grasping blind for the ring about his neck to find the metal so hot it nearly burned. _"What the hell is that? Am I hearing things now too?"_

_He's come home at last- my Chosen. And you will be the beacon to guide him to his path, the catalyst to unlock his full potential. It is why I chose you._

"_Chose me?"_ Arthur thought, his mind wild and flying apart at the seams. "_Your Chosen? Oh, Sweet Death I'm hallucinating now." _Straining to keep his face clear and reverent as Yao delivered his prepared speech to the citizens of Merica, Arthur was nonetheless certain that he heard a damned chuckle in his own head.

_Flattery will get you everywhere, dear child. Now pay attention- it's time._

"_Time for what?"_ Arthur scarcely had time to form those internal words before Spadille leaped in his hands, the chain drawing taut as the implement levitated before him. A hazy azure nimbus surrounded the Watch now, a glow matched by Chrona and Aeterna. Yao's litany cut off as he gasped and an excited murmur began among the people.

"Aeterna?" Yao sounded both incredulous and distraught, drawing his blade from its sheath and holding the silvered blade in front of his gaze. The aura caught with a bright flare and the implement began to emit a soft singing sound, like the tone of the crystal goblet rims Arthur sometimes played to irritate Dylan at dinner parties. Chrona likewise raised its voice from his hip, disconnecting itself from its own tethers with an audible "click" and hovering, full-grown, an inch above the ground as though waiting for Arthur to mount it. The quiet whispers of the citizenry had grown to a dull roar, and there was a common phrase on each set of lips- "The King". Arthur's own magic welled up inside of him like a font, the lifespring burning his veins as it surged within his spirit, searching for an outlet. Dimly, he was aware that he had stepped onto Chrona's surface and Spadille was leading him by inches towards something (someone?) hidden in the shadows of the sacred trees framing the city gates- the Elder Birch and Elder Rowan. Arthur's breath caught in his throat; rowan for new life, birch for driving out the spirits of the old year. The word "prophecy" hung heavily on the back of the stinging wind, stealing the breath from Arthur's lungs and setting his very core to reeling. Could it be?

The people drew back in awed piety at the power rolling off their Queen in waves, sinking into the very stones and the earth and permeating the air. Drew back they did, parting with bowed heads to clear his path to the Elders and as he approached Spadille gave a final, massive lurch and ripped itself from his right hand. Arthur released a cry of dismay that was stolen by the chill of the night as the King's Watch flew through the ether to land with a resounding smack in the outstretched palm of a tall, dark-cloaked figure emerging from the shelter of the Rowan's branches. The crowd fell silent and knelt before him, even as the radiant glimmer of the implement's aura enveloped the man himself and the song of Chrona and Aeterna reached a crescendo near-painful to the soul.

_It is done!_

The dark voice was a triumphant echo in the vaults of Arthur's mind, though the sorcerer himself was sent to his knees by the force of the magical backlash that was Spadille's incorporation with the stranger's spirit. For a long moment, Arthur's eyes were hot and blind, his ears ringing with the remnants of Chrona's song. On the edges of his consciousness he was aware of the silence of the Square, how the people waited with bated breath for the announcement that was sure to come. Shaking his head to clear it, Arthur was surprised to see a hand appear before his eyes, the palm outstretched in a clear gesture to aid him to his feet. The digits proffered to him were long and blunt, callused at the tips and encased in fingerless gloves of worn brown leather. Dark gauntlets of the same material covered muscular forearms, a sliver of golden skin visible above them where the inky folds of the mourning cloak had fallen away. Arthur blinked; Spadille's chain was coiled thrice around that wrist, the implement humming contentedly a few inches below.

"Allow me, my Queen."

The voice above his head was a soothing tenor, genuine concern palpable in its tone but with a clear undernote of cheeky mischief that made Arthur wish suddenly to beat the man senseless. Mustering the grace for which he was known, he slid his hand into the stranger's and allowed himself to be drawn up to his full height- an entire head shorter than his would-be rescuer's. As he gazed up into the eyes of his new King (who was still holding his hand, the rude git), Arthur's heart skipped and stuttered in his chest. Short strands of wheat-gold hair framed a face saved from utter loveliness only by the masculine shape of its square jaw, fallen across a pair of eyes the color of a summer sky. A devil-may-care smirk played about a generous mouth, and were it not for the small unruly cowlick above the man's right temple he would swear that he had been absurdly prophetic and that this creature was Rane the Great come back to life. As it was, he knew that ridiculous piece of hair as well as his own and had seen those eyes in his dreams for near on to a decade.

"Alfred?" he whispered. The smile on those full lips went from playful to wistful in a moment, as the blonde dipped to one knee to press a kiss to the back of Arthur's still-captured hand.

"Alfred Jones, at your service my Queen."

_Notes:_

_Nightshade is associated with death and rebirth, wolfsbane with balance. These three aspects are in many cultures considered the three main aspects of death itself. The falcon as a totem of air symbolizes war, power, aspiration, and determination. Rowan and birch are both trees associated with the element of air, the former as a symbol of life used in many magical charms of protection and the latter for shielding, warding, or cleansing. _

_The "trishula" is the three-bladed trident wielded by Lord Shiva in Hindu myths, whose blades do indeed represent all three of his aspects- destruction, creation, and balance. Bladed as opposed to pointed tridents are actually pretty rare and an appropriate weapon for the ultimate King of Swords and Chosen of Death._

_Dylan Bruce, former King of Spades, bears a good old British Isles name. "Bruce" is a very old noble surname in Scotland, particularly known for "Robert the Bruce", former King of Scotland and a national hero. "Dylan" is a Welsh name meaning "great sea" or "child of the sea". I meant it to be ironic, since he was an air elemental, and perhaps as a play on his incompatibility with the throne. _

_It was a common practice among Celts from 1600BCE-700CE to perform burials like the one described here, minus the magic of course. The flames dehydrated the body enough to remove smell and disease, and then it could be buried or sunk in waters (pretty common) without worry of contamination. The prayer Arthur recites is adapted from an old Irish funeral prayer. _


	4. Chapter Three

WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-TEA-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING

My stories are usually based around yaoi pairings, which means boy-boy, homosexual pairings. If you don't like it, don't read it- it's that simple. Please don't complain or flame, as you have been warned.

Hetalia Axis Powers/Hetalia World Powers is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya, Studio Deen, and Funimation. All stories are purely for entertainment purposes, and I am so not worth suing.

WARNING-WARNING-WARNING-SCONES-WARNING-WARNING-WARNING

_**Excerpt from Chapter Six of **__**The Structure and Politics of Hierophant City**__**, a text for students of Spades Kingdom enrolled in Dagda Academy in the capitol city of Merica.**_

_Of all of the officials and residents of Hierophant City, the most mysterious are those known as "Jokers". The Jokers serve as the enforcers of the Will of their patron God, and like all members of the Hierophantic Court lose the symbol of their original Suit upon taking up the position. Instead, a bi-shaded star in the colors of his or her patron appears in the place of the original suit marking. Jokers are known to wander the Kingdoms carrying out the instructions of the Hierophant when not on a task for their Gods, and are thus afforded the same respect as high-ranking clergy. _

_Most of what we know of the Jokers comes from the journals of Joker Frederick, formerly of the House of Hohenzollern in the Kingdom of Hearts. Joker Frederick apparently misplaced his diaries when staying in Gallia, capitol of the Kingdom of Diamonds, on assignment to the Temple of the Earth therein. An enterprising cleric found the documents and, recognizing their importance, sold them to a renowned printer for distribution amongst the people of Hoyle; it is through these passages that we have come to understand some little of the mystery of the Jokers._

_Each God of the Pantheon of Twenty Two keeps a watch on the Kingdoms of Hoyle, but in particular searches the souls of the inhabitants for those with two unique traits- those whose spirits match the temperament of the God him or herself, and those who are marked for a premature death. (Frederick also took care to note that most Chosen are also gifted in either the magical arts or the arts of war.) The conjunction of these two key elements is relatively rare; it has been estimated that there are no more than five or six dozen Jokers in existence at any given time. When these traits do coincide, the God waits until the moment of the Chosen's death to mark that soul as his or her own. It is at this time that the Chosen's Suit marks disappear, and he or she loses all affiliation with Clan and Kingdom to become a Joker. Jokers, as the Chosen of the Gods, are essentially immortal in that they do not age; they can still be killed through battle, magic, or accident, however. A Joker will serve until such time as he is killed or his God Releases him unto death, a fate many Jokers choose when the weight of their years or their tasks become too much for their souls. Joker Frederick, if his journals are to be believed in their entirety, had served for nearly four hundred years at the time of their publication in the early 4100s. Which God he himself served is unknown, for he referred to his patron as simply "the Old Man", and gods may take any form that they choose when visiting mortals. Frederick also alluded to a herculean task that his God had given him, one that was to encompass his entire life's service, but he was vague as to what this task was or why it was of such import. _

**The Last Day of the Month of Dumannios, Year 4350 Kingdom Era**

_**Royal Palace of Merica, Spades Kingdom**_

"Get in here immediately, aru!"

Wang Yao, Jack of Spades, herded four cloaked figures none-too-gently into the Ready Room of the Great Hall of Spades Palace. Three were wearing the simple spun-wool mourning garments of the commons, while the last was his shell-shocked Queen, Arthur Kirkland. Arthur had not spoken a word since their new King (Gods help them all) greeted him in the Festival Square; not when the crowd had roared their approval at the man's extravagant and courtly gesture, not when Yao had shoved them all into the palanquin and barked orders at the bearers to return immediately to the Palace, and not when he had been led like a child through the corridors by his panicked co-ruler. The funeral of Dylan Bruce, former King of Spades, was in a shambles, the new King claimed to be the heir to an extinct Royal line, and the populace was already spreading gossip about prophecies like wildfire; any one of these alone would normally have been enough to send the rather irascible Queen into an apoplectic fit, and yet he remained pale and silent. Yao dismissed the servants and petty functionaries with a wave and a stern hand on the hilt of Aeterna before turning to his motley charges.

"Just what the hell is all this, aru? Who _are_ you?"

The tall blonde from the Square spoke first, in a high clear tenor with a slight nasal overtone that reminded Yao of the river accent of the south. "As I said before, I'm Alfred Jones. This is my twin brother Matthew and a…friend of the family, Gilbert."

He inclined his head to the taller of the two remaining figures first, a lithe man with hair and eyes a shade darker than Alfred's own but the same pretty face. It was the other, however, that drew Yao's gaze. The third man was half a head shorter than the brothers but with a denser build. Removal of his hood had shown this "Gilbert" to be an albino, with bone-white skin and hair and manic ruby eyes. He had a strange aura about him, and lacked the distinct navy spade marking under his right eye. Either he was a foreigner, Yao reasoned, or something else entirely. The implications of Alfred's given clan name and of Gilbert's "something else" were beginning to give Yao a headache.

"That is impossible," Yao began, rubbing his temples. "Clan Jones was wiped out millennia ago."

"Not exactly," Alfred replied with a cheery grin. "We've been kinda hiding out under the protection of Death's Jokers."

"And you're a pain in the ass assignment, kid." Gilbert rolled his eyes to the ceiling, waving off Alfred's ensuing whine to the contrary. "At least your brother is _quiet_."

"Please don't drag me into this." A quiet whisper from the corner of the room reminded Yao of the boy's presence; Alfred's twin seemed to melt into the walls with little difficulty.

"You're even louder than me, you know."

"Aiyah, be quiet!" Yao felt the vein in his temple give an uncomfortable throb. "Are you," he pointed at Gilbert, "trying to tell us that you are a Joker?"

"The most awesome Joker Gilbert, in the service of Hierophant City," the albino stated proudly, assuming what Yao supposed was meant to be an impressive pose. It came off as a bit silly to him. The Joker gave a toothy grin and pulled his shirt open at the chest to expose a star marking in black and navy on his left upper breast. "And in the service of Lord Death as well. It is my duty, as it was my mentor's, to watch over the Jones family and keep its heir concealed until such time as the prophecy came to pass. I have a letter from Hierophant Magnus verifying the lineage of these two morons."

Yao snatched the proffered envelope and scrutinized the silver wax seal- it definitely _looked_ like the Hierophant's personal sigil, and the tell-tale flecks of crystal in the wax were very difficult to falsify. He slid his finger underneath, lifting out the sole piece of parchment inside with a frown. The handwriting was familiar as well, but Arthur would be a far better judge; the Queen was the one who kept up foreign correspondence after all.

"Arthur, could you authenticate this letter? Arthur?" His companion showed no sign of having heard him, preferring instead to gaze upon the portrait of Rane the Great with unfocused green eyes. "Arthur! For Death's sake, man, get a hold of yourself, aru!" Yao seized his Queen's arm and shook it hard. Hazy eyes turned to his as Arthur struggled for a moment, mouth opening and closing without a sound. Numb fingers slipped the page from Yao's grasp as Arthur _finally_ looked over the document.

"It's genuine," he whispered, pointing with one shaking finger to a black-inked stamp in the corner that shone indigo when turned in the light. "Death himself has blessed it with his mark."

"_To Wang Yao, Jack of the Kingdom of Spades, and Arthur Kirkland, Queen of the Same-_

_Let it be known on this day, the 28__th__ Day of Dumannios in the Year 4350 of the Kingdom Era, that in my official capacity as Hierophant of the Pantheon I do hereby affirm the identities of Alfred Jones and Matthew Jones, formerly known as Alfred and Matthew Williams. Our Lord Death, Thirteenth God of the Pantheon and Patron of the Kingdom of Spades, has charged his Chosen Jokers for the past four millennia with the task of concealing the whereabouts of the direct heirs of King Rane Jones until such time as the prophecy of the Grand Royal Flush came to fruition. Alfred and Matthew are the sole surviving members of the Jones Clan, and have been blessed by their patron with the abilities and talents famous to the line; these abilities will further serve to confirm their status, as will the Royal Artifact in the possession of Alfred Jones- Tempus, the lost Rune Ring of Rane the Great._

_Further, Hierophant City in accordance with the will of Lord Death releases Joker Gilbert, formerly of House Beillschmidt of the Kingdom of Hearts, to the service of the new King of Spades as advisor until such time as the prophecy has been fulfilled. In addition, Joker Gilbert will be sent an Apprentice to assist in these duties, as chosen by Lord Death. _

_Signed Here and Witnessed by the God Himself-_

_Magnus Berg_

_Hierophant of the Pantheon of Twenty-Two"_

Yao recited the letter in an incredulous voice, both Royals lifting their eyes to the new King at the close. "Abilities of the line?" Yao asked, unsure.

"Oh! Yeah, he probably meant this…" Alfred trailed off as he and his twin each picked up one of the heavy armoires flanking the door with _one hand_ and lifted them clear over their heads. "We're also pretty bad-ass fighters, but we can't really show you that indoors without breaking a whole lot of your stuff. Like this entire wing of the Palace."

"Those have to weigh twenty-two stone each," Yao gasped. A sideways glance to Arthur shocked him even further- his Queen didn't seem surprised at this feat of strength at all. Instead, he was grasping something at the end of a golden chain around his neck for dear life.

"This can't…it can't really be…I had it all along?"

"What are you…?"

Yao cut off his question as Alfred put down the furniture and was at Arthur's side in three long strides. Clasping his hand over the Queen's, the boy's face softened from his brilliant grin into something close to weeping.

"Have ya really been wearin' it all this time, Artie?"

"I…is this truly…?"

Alfred gently pried open Arthur's clenched fist, revealing a heavy gold ring in his palm. Yao leaned closer, noting the engraved Ogham runes on its band and the massive star sapphire at its center. The Jack had never seen such a specimen before- star sapphires were very rare, and this one was such a deep shade of blue, almost onyx. He recognized it immediately from the portrait of the First King; was flabbergasted that Arthur had the damn thing in his possession and did not- and that he managed to keep such an ornament concealed for eight years.

"You had Tempus and didn't even recognize it, aru? After all the time you spent gawking at that portrait? How did you even _get _the damned thing?"

Neither man answered, Arthur staring down at the jewel at his throat as if it held the answer to the riddles of the universe, and Alfred staring at Arthur's face. Those dark eyebrows drew together in the center, porcelain cheeks beginning to turn crimson as his breath quickened. Yao knew those symptoms, and stepped back away from the pair on pure reflex. That was never a good sign…

"You…" Arthur whispered, pulling his hand away from Alfred's and closing it again around Tempus. "You…"

"Hmm?"

"You great bloody git!" Arthur shouted, the strident tone making the new King jump at least a foot in the air. "You lying tosser! All that time you lied to me! About who you were, about everything. Oh, very well done, poppet. I didn't think a child of that age could put on such a show. Those tears when I left, your innocent proposal- that was expert."

"No! That wasn't…I didn't…" the boy began, holding his hands out to the Queen. Arthur ignored the gesture completely, absorbed in one of his famed temper tantrums.

"Did you have fun at my expense? Strange Arthur and his creepy magic, isn't it hilarious how attached he got to a pair of little peasants in the river country? Won't it be _amusing_ to make him think he's found happiness and then let him believe he's lost it again? What a fabulous joke, even if we must wait a few years for the punch line, eh?"

Arthur's voice slid up the octaves with each word, a near-hysterical squeak by the end of his diatribe that broke even Yao's heart, and he had no special fondness for his temperamental co-ruler.

"It wasn't a joke or a lie! We'd never do that! We didn't know, Arthur, I swear it. Gil didn't tell us until after you'd left for Merica!" Alfred pleaded, grasping Arthur's shoulders in a grip so tight he was sure the man would have bruises later.

"Oh of course not, poppet. How could I have been so stupid?" the Queen railed, ripping himself from the younger's hold with difficulty. "I saw your idiot strength the moment we met. I sat in front of this bloody portrait nearly every bloody day and never noticed the bloody ring in it was around my neck!"

"He's swearing an awful lot," Yao heard the other twin mumble to the Joker. "He's super angry this time, yeah?"

"Shut up, birdie, and maybe the little tyrant won't start screaming at us too."

"Arthur, please," Alfred pleaded. "You have to understand-"

"I have to do nothing!" Arthur shrieked, clearly at the end of his rope. "I am the Queen of Spades and I won't be made a fool, not anymore and not by you!"

Yao sighed as Arthur stormed out of the room and through the Great Hall, waves of dark magic rolling out of him and pushing everyone but Alfred to their knees. The King appeared to remain upright only by sheer force of will, determination glinting in those blue eyes as he chased after the velvet-clad back of his Queen.

"Aiyah."

"So…he took that pretty well."

The look Yao favored the Joker with could have slagged brick.

.

.

Arthur's tears blinded him as he navigated the halls by memory alone. He could hear Alfred's (_the King, just call him the King now)_ heavy footsteps behind him, though they fell further behind with each twist and turn Arthur made. He was certain he could lose the man in the winding passageways to the roof (_the boy's sense of direction was always horrible_) if he could just stop crying. As he flew around the spiral staircase at the center of the East Tower, Arthur scrubbed a hand quickly over his eyes. If he could remember where that secret passage was…

_Ah! There it is!_

Arthur hurriedly tugged on a brass sconce that possessed a chalcedony cabochon as its decoration rather than a lapis lazuli, hurling himself into the small passage it opened in the wall and pushing the stones back into place with shaking hands. Pressing his ear to the damp granite, he could hear Alfred approaching, calling his name with a desperate hitch in his voice (_just like that Samhain Night, after he heard ghost stories about the forest and was too afraid to sleep alone_). The King thundered past with enough noise to wake the dead, leaving Arthur to heave a gusty sigh of relief, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor with his face buried in his cold hands.

Alone at last, Arthur allowed himself the luxury of a good hard cry. He had been so lonely these past eight years, and though his mind had dreamed up dozens of scenarios in which he would meet Alfred again none were anything like this. He felt terribly betrayed, his heart an anvil in his chest. Alfred (_his Alfred, his hero, the first person to ever genuinely care about him)_ had lied to him from the first day that they met. If he had loved Arthur as he had seemed to, he would have told him the truth about who he was (_but would he have believed a story as crazy as that, even from Al?)_. And even if his unconvincing claim that he hadn't known before Arthur left for Merica was true he could have somehow gotten word to him, couldn't he (_except letters would have been screened and no commoner would be allowed through the Palace to see the Queen and Dylan would have found a way to take out the competition_)?

Drawing a rattling breath, Arthur regained his feet and made his way down the pitch-black passage with a mage-light in his cupped hand. This particular path led back to the Ready Room, and he was sure Yao would have led Gilbert and Matthew away from there by now _(pretty Matthew, the same as ever with his gentle smile and tendency to blend into the furniture_). He had almost regained his composure by the time he reached his goal, listening intently for any sound before nudging the tapestry concealing the passageway aside and releasing his magic. He would sneak out from here to his room, and just hope that by morning Yao had sorted out this mess for him. Turning to the door, Arthur smacked hard into a warm, solid chest, falling unceremoniously onto his backside. Twinkling blue eyes mocked him from above.

"Gotcha," Alfred gloated, hands on his hips. "You're predictable, Artie. You always double back to where you started when you run from somethin'. It's why you always lost at hide-and-go-seek."

"I most certainly did not, you great lummox!" Arthur replied, with every intent of storming past Alfred to his rooms. His plans were neatly foiled by the heavy armoires now blocking both the exit and the passageway from which he had emerged. "Let me out, git!"

"Not a chance. Not until you sit down and talk to me like a man," Alfred said, his lips taking on a stubborn set that Arthur recognized all too well. Alfred was well nigh intractable when he got a notion set in his head firmly enough. One might better try to reason with a mountain. The boy flopped down onto the carpet next to the Queen, staring curiously at the portraits of the First Royalty. "Look, Arthur, I know this is a shock. It was for us, too. We didn't believe Gil at first, either. Man, this painting is all kinds of creepy- that guy totally looks just like me."

"You're his descendent, twit. _You_ look like _him_," Arthur sniffed. Alfred merely shrugged. "And your nose is less hawkish, while he lacks your absurd hair abnormality."

"Hey now…"

The two sat in silence for a long moment, avoiding direct eye contact. Predictably, Alfred broke it first.

"I wanted to rush right to Merica when I found out, just after your coronation. Wanted to get back to you any way I could. Gil put a stop to that real quick, and he was right to with that old bastard on the throne. That, and Death forbid it, I guess." Alfred's face was melancholy, a look so rare that Arthur could hardly recognize him with it twisting his features. "Plus, we didn't know which one of us would be King, or when. It coulda been decades, for all we knew, and it coulda been Mattie. But you gotta believe me, Arthur- it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, waiting to see you again."

"You…you insufferable thing." Arthur could feel the trails of saline on his cheeks now, turning his chin downwards to contemplate the pattern of the rug. "I'm trying to be angry with you."

"I know," Alfred laughed. "This…we never asked for any of this, Artie. All I wanted back then was to make you smile, and to grow up faster so I could marry you."

"You were insufferable then too," Arthur choked. He was not about to start blubbering again.

Alfred tilted his head back to contemplate the chandelier. "Maybe, but I was kinda proud that I could always make you smile. Even Mattie and Ma couldn't but manage it every once in a while."

"Is Emily still back in Albion, or is she somewhere here in the city?" Arthur felt his spirits rise a little at the thought of his surrogate mother- Gods knew his own never provided him any solace, and Emily's warm hugs and delicious cookies were certainly something he could use right about now. Alfred's smile turned a little fragile at that, cracking at the edges in a way Arthur couldn't quite associate with the sunny boy he had known. _Maturity, perhaps? Has the world finally managed to jade him?_ The thought made his heart sink…must be the result of a too-small dinner and his earlier crying jag, he reasoned.

"Ma had to wait back home," Alfred sighed, returning his eyes to his ancestor's portrait. "We had to ride pretty hard to get here in two days, what with Gil havin' to jaunt to Hierophant City to get the letter and all. And Ma, she's…Artie, you remember that plague that hit the river towns back in the spring?"

Arthur nodded, dread rising in his throat. "I spent every night in the Temple, making offerings for our people…and for you three. I prayed so fervently that the sickness would never touch you."

"Well, you know Ma," his companion chuckled, a dry, mirthless sound. "She was always tendin' to the sick and the injured. She's so damned stubborn about it, and nothin' Mattie or I said would keep her from tryin' to help as best she could. But this time, she took sick; she was one of the lucky ones to survive, but she's been real weak ever since. Mattie and I had all kinds of trouble tryin' to make ends meet, and the medicine she needed was so expensive."

"You great bloody git," Arthur snapped, his eyes welling up again as he smacked Alfred about the head. "Why didn't you try to get word to me, or go to the manor house? They would have made sure I heard of it Alfred, the servants there all adored you."

"Couldn't. Gil said we had to lay low, and with all the rumors flyin' around about a war, any letter to you woulda been screened. Plus, Mattie and I had to be real careful about keepin' to ourselves as we got older." Those full lips twisted in a way that was almost self-depreciating. "Our strength keeps gettin' greater, see, and it's hard to control. Sometimes we wreck stuff without even tryin'."

"That's hardly a new development. You two were destroying things from the day we met."

"Yeah, but now it's not just breaking a glass or busting an axle on the wagon," Alfred replied. "Nowadays we're more likely to knock down trees and walls. Mattie got pissy about some girl who dumped him last month and put his fist six inches deep into that huge oak in the forest. You know the one that's like four arm spans around?"

Arthur nodded. "The old histories say that Rane the Great could uproot a young tree to use as a spear with his bare hands. We always thought that was just storytelling…"

"Nope. Gil likes to call it 'an efficient use of terrain'." Alfred stood then, dusting off his cloak. "Come on, I said I'd bring you back to the Jack when you calmed down. I think they're in the library. Wherever the hell that is."

"Come along, then. If I let you try to find it on your own, you'll end up in Diamonds," Arthur sighed, rapping his knuckles on the armoire. "Move this, and we'll get going."

Alfred obeyed, shifting the heavy furniture back into place as though it were a child's toy and bowing at the waist. "After you, my Queen."

"Git."

They walked in silence through the Great Hall and several corridors before Arthur found his voice again; it was too easy to just revel in his Alfred's presence, to pretend nothing had changed, but that wouldn't be fair to either of them.

"Alfred, you know we can't just pick up where we left off don't you?"

"Why not?" Alfred challenged, his bottom lip thrust out in a distinct pout. "You're still you, and I'm still me, so…"

"Don't' be foolish," he snapped. "It's been eight years; we've both grown to manhood in that time. I have been living a life of court intrigue and constant confrontation with the last King. I am not the same person I was back in Albion, and I doubt you are either."

"I'm not far off, and neither are you," Alfred countered, clearly irritated by the lack of immediate camaraderie. "People don't really _change_ Artie; they just become more who they were meant to be."

Arthur stopped dead to flick his companion on the nose. "Now you sound like Yao. He is old enough to get away with cliché statements of faux-wisdom, you are not."

"You're still a nag," Alfred called as Arthur began walking again, faster this time. "And you still have a horrible temper, are dishonest about what you're feeling, and try to use sharp words to keep people away."

_Good Gods, the boy is actually ticking off my undesirable traits on his fingers! That brat!_ But Alfred was just warming up, it seemed.

"You still can't control your magic when you're angry, you're a crybaby, and you swear a lot." The man's grin resurfaced at Arthur's obvious dismay, but when he continued his voice had grown soft and fond. "But I'll also bet that you still feed the birds when no one's looking. I bet you still embroider when you're upset, could out-drink any man in Merica, and never get tired of learning new things. And money says you missed me as much as I missed you but don't know how to say it."

The breath was driven from Arthur's lungs by the certainty in Alfred's litany, and the fact that all of it, every word, was completely and utterly true. _That doesn't mean he knows the man you are, or that you know him at all,_ he reasoned, stopping short in front of the library doors. "We're here, so-"

"Look at me, Arthur," Alfred whispered. Strong, callused fingers cupped Arthur's cheek and turned his face towards Alfred's; the thumb stroking gently across the tender skin under his right eye. "There's one more, of course. You're still the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Stop that," Arthur breathed, backing away from Alfred on shaky legs. "You cannot act like that with me now. I am the Queen of Spades, and you are now King. We have duties and responsibilities, and I am not some village girl you're trying to pick up for a tumble." He ignored the pained look in Alfred's eyes in favor of storming past him into the library, where Yao, Matthew, and Gilbert were waiting.

"Al, get in here quick," Gilbert called, holding his hands up in defense against the fuming Jack. "This little guy is severely unawesome and I need a buffer. Birdie's not helping."

"Birdie thinks you deserve the lecture," Matthew muttered. Arthur was almost pleased to note the lad was still passive-aggressive; his snipes were always amusing.

"Yes, do get in here Alfred, Arthur. We have much to discuss," Yao said, tucking his hands backwards into the voluminous sleeves of his tunic. He had shed his cloak and hat at some point, and had apparently been consulting the massive book laid open on a lectern in front of him. "With the very public transference of Spadille, we have no choice but to formally announce Alfred as King of Spades tomorrow morning."

"So soon?" Arthur asked. "He's far more unprepared than any other has been."

"Nonetheless," Yao responded. "The people are already speaking of prophecy, and well they should. With the appearance of a monarch of the Jones Clan, Hoyle is now experiencing a Grand Royal Flush. This was not even thought possible, and yet is a perfect interpretation of the Aether Prophecy. I am clearly the Peony, and Arthur the Rose. Alfred, then, is the fallen star returned to the sky."

"The people have been speaking of prophecy ever since I was crowned," argued Arthur. "A little more time couldn't hurt."

A snort came from the Joker, who threw himself into an armchair and propped his heavy boots onto a bookshelf. "That's bullshit. The other monarchs are already on their way here for the funeral reception, yeah? How pissed would they be if they came to Merica and found out you were hiding the new King from them? Diplomatic nightmare, which considering you're practically at war with Clubs and Hearts already…"

"The idiot has a point, aru. It will also not win us any good will with the people, who clearly saw the choosing." Yao sighed and rubbed his temples. "We cannot afford civil discord while we are on such shaky ground with the other kingdoms."

Arthur echoed Yao's exasperated aura, but knew when he was beaten. "Very well. We should send couriers ahead to the other royals in that case. Though unorthodox, it will be easier on us in the long run to have Alfred's coronation within the fortnight to avoid the rudeness of asking them all to journey here twice in a month."

"You are just saying that because you don't want to see the King of Diamonds twice, Arthur," snapped Yao. "You had better be…not yourself during this period to avoid any further strain on the one kingdom with which we still have a tenuous alliance."

"Uh, that might be a problem," Alfred interjected. "I mean, Francis Bonnefoy is the King of Diamonds, right?"

"Yes…"

Arthur and Alfred exchanged a look of mutual chagrin. "I, um, have a previous history with Francis too. I kicked his ass once when we were kids, so unless he has a real short memory we may already be screwed with Diamonds."

"….."

Yao's mouth opened and closed in a soundless gape, reminding Arthur unpleasantly of a fish. "You are joking with me, are you not?"

"Nope. He still friends with that dark-haired jackass?" Alfred asked.

"Carriedo?" Arthur replied. "Antonio is now the Captain of the King's Guard, and remains Francis' best friend."

"Well, fuck. Seeing as Mattie kicked _his_ ass, we're double screwed."

Matthew flinched from the corner. "Why do I have anything to do with this? I won't matter in diplomatic relations…"

The royals were already shaking their heads before the boy could finish his sentence.

"That is not how nobility works, aru. A man's actions reflect on his House, and all its members. Arthur has had significant trouble in dealing with not only his own temper but those of his brothers."

"Scott, Colin, and Seamus have all reflected poorly on House Kirkland at international events before," Arthur agreed. "Idris is the only one that seems to be able to keep out of trouble. We have had strained relations with Hearts due to insults those berks gave while drunk and belligerent."

Alfred slung an arm over his brother's shoulders. "Besides, Mattie, you're gonna be in a pretty visible position yourself."

"Al, we made that promise largely because we thought I could end up King and you are restless. I can fade into the background and-"

"No!" Alfred's voice was sharp and vehement. "I don't trust anyone to watch my back but you, Matthew. And anyone who doesn't like it can back the fuck off when they see what you can do." A shadow of his carefree grin crossed Alfred's boyish face. "Sides, I'm gonna need you and Artie to keep me grounded."

"What about me, you brat?" Gilbert whined, uncrossing his ankles and letting his feet drop to the floor. "I got released from Hierophant City to 'advise' your flaky ass, remember?"

"You're more likely to jump into his crazy ideas right along with him," Matthew admonished. He grasped his twin's hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs across Alfred's knuckles. "Okay, Al. We're in this together."

Arthur frowned darkly, exchanging an irritated look with Yao as the more experienced royals were cut out of the discussion altogether. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what Alfred was talking about- if the boys were still as inseparable as Arthur remembered, there was only one position Alfred would bestow upon his beloved younger brother. The Captain of the King's Guard was the closest to the King besides his co-rulers, and the one functionary with complete freedom and access to him at all times. He remembered Matthew's unexpectedly fierce demeanor when Alfred was threatened, his skill with archery, and his quiet cunning. Though it was unorthodox for a new King to choose a Captain outside the Army, it would not be seen as total disrespect with Matthew's status as the other remaining Jones heir. If anyone could protect Alfred through being thrown head-first into the complexities of political intrigue, it was Matthew. Yao must have realized what Alfred meant as well as he opened his mouth to complain, brows furrowed, but subsided at a subtle head shake from Arthur. _That argument is not one worth having, my friend._

They stayed convened in the library for an hour more, hashing out the language of the morning announcement and of the letters to the other monarchs. Yao delivered more than one scathing insult to Alfred as he quizzed him on his general knowledge of Spades Kingdom's politics and particulars. It seemed that despite the basic education Arthur had given them years before; the boys had learned almost nothing since. Gilbert had brought them books and scrolls when he could, but such study had to be done clandestinely and in what little time they had left over after scratching out their meager existence. Finally, Yao had slapped his forehead and given up, assigning Arthur the task of providing lessons to the King and his brother while the Jack arranged the funeral reception with the other Kingdoms and Alfred's pursuant coronation. Arthur was of two minds about that, torn between the nostalgia of teaching his dear ones once again and the creeping insecurity of the gulf of time that now lay between them.

He was also afraid, he mused as they broke for the night, a servant showing Alfred and Matthew to the chambers they would use until the King's Suite could be set to Alfred's tastes. Afraid of the tender look in those sky-blue eyes, filled with the same adoration as they had been when Alfred was a boy but tempered now with something far more adult; afraid of having his heart destroyed if he opened it again. There were few true friendships between the ruling monarchs of nations, and even fewer liaisons; nothing could be allowed to affect their ability to rule. The current political climate was somewhat of an exception- the Jack and Queen of Diamonds were siblings, the Jack and Queen of Clubs were married, and if the rumors were to be believed the King of Hearts was lovers with his own Jack. Arthur knew better than to involve himself in such entanglements, which was why he repeatedly and violently rejected the offers of an intimate if casual relationship with Francis. All these years, Arthur had believed that Alfred's proposal was childish innocence from a boy who was too young and naïve to tell familial love from romantic. Yet, Alfred's courtly gestures (he had bent on one knee to kiss his hand _again_ when he said goodnight) and intense eyes seemed to speak otherwise; and Arthur himself had not allowed so much as a kiss since he left Albion. He had thought he was merely waiting for someone _like_ Alfred to enter his life- he had not expected the boy himself.

Arthur worried at the ring still hanging at his throat as he tossed in his bed that night, only falling into a fitful sleep once he had threaded it onto his left ring finger.

.

.

Lying in the dark halfway across the castle, Alfred counted his brother's slow, even breaths. When he was certain Matthew was asleep he gently untangled their limbs and slid out of the great bed. He was used to a rope cot, and the devouring softness of a feather tick made him feel uncomfortably decadent. Slipping Spadille from the nightstand, he crept to the guarded door and closed his eyes. The watch in his palm warmed to his touch, and Alfred tilted his head, listening. It was a whisper in his mind and no more, but it was enough; he reached for that new energy nestled in his heart and concentrated on Spadille. The watch glowed a soft azure and its ticks slowed to a crawl, tendrils of wind escaping the casing to slide under the doorframe. After a moment, Alfred eased open the door to find his guards neatly frozen, one's mouth still open in aborted conversation. Alfred crept past them with ease, releasing his aura once he was safely out of sight. A few more repetitions and a quiet plea for directions from Spadille (which sent him a mildly irritated pulse- apparently it did not appreciate being used as a dowsing rod) found Alfred in the Great Hall once more. Climbing the three broad steps to the dais at the chamber's center, he ran his right hand over the carved arm of the rowan throne of the Spirit King. While massive in general size, the wood was delicately carved to be open and airy, banded with gold and inset with gemstones of the air in various shades of blue- sapphire, chrysolite, lapis lazuli, and chalcedony.

Alfred's fingertips drifted over the polished seat, worn from millennia of use by his predecessors. For almost eight years, Gilbert had been telling the twins that their destiny lay here in Merica. Alfred, though he believed his "uncle" on an intellectual level, had never connected to the idea emotionally. It had just never seemed real to him- until that moment when Spadille connected with his outstretched hand and seared the power of the King of Spades into his soul. Now, it was all Alfred could do just to remain conscious and coherent with the flood of energy and awareness streaming into his body from the whole of the kingdom. Spadille too overwhelmed him; the implement had a consciousness of its own that almost clamored for Alfred's attention like an affectionate puppy. He lowered himself onto the throne, dropping his head into his hands as he tried to cope with the enormity of his new position.

"Ah, laddie. You did always say you'd be a hero someday. You can't be overwhelmed already."

Alfred's head snapped up, his eyes locking with a stooped figure in the shadows of a nearby column, dark in a hooded traveling robe. He couldn't see the man's face, but it hardly mattered. He would know that voice anywhere.

"Sneaking into the Palace is a bit far to go just to talk to me," Alfred chuckled. "How'd ya manage this one, Old Man?"

"Oh," the man laughed, drawing back his hood to reveal a shock of wild white hair and a devilish smirk. "You'd be surprised at the places I can get into, my boyo."

_Notes:_

_Many thanks to my reviewers- you have all been very kind! And thanks for the patience- I've been ill recently and thus delayed on updates._

_Joker Frederick refers to Frederick the Great, the most famous King of Prussia who was affectionately known by his people as "Old Man Fritz". His House was indeed Hohenzollern. I thought it appropriate for him to be Gilbert's mentor, as canon Prussia mentions Old Man Fritz a couple times._

"_Tempus" is the Latin word for time. _

_Magnus Berg, the Hierophant, is Norway. Since he doesn't have a canon human name, I selected one for him- "Magnus" is a Norwegian royal name, derived from the Latin word for "great". It is still the 5__th__ most popular baby boy's name in Norway today. "Berg" comes from the Old Norse and Germanic words for "mountain", which will tie into where Norge is from in this tale. It is also one of the top ten most common surnames in modern Norway. He and the other Nordics will appear later on- all as agents of Hierophant City in different capacities. I chose Norway as Hierophant due to his significant skill with magic._

_Twenty two stone is just over three hundred pounds. _

_Scott is Scotland, Colin and Seamus are North Ireland and Ireland respectively (twins), and Idris is Wales._


	5. Chapter Four

My stories are usually based around yaoi pairings, which means boy-boy, homosexual pairings. If you don't like it, don't read it- it's that simple. Please don't complain or flame, as you have been warned.

Hetalia Axis Powers/Hetalia World Powers is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya, Studio Deen, and Funimation. All stories are purely for entertainment purposes, and I am so not worth suing.

**Chapter Four:**

Alfred had been visited by the Old Man nearly all his life. It was just before his fourth birthday when they first met, yet the memory was so clear and sharp in his mind; it was the day of his father's funeral.

_Alfred sat under the shade of the Great Oak in the Ardennes Forest, his knees pulled tightly to his chest. He wouldn't cry like his mother and brother- he would be strong for all of them. He grasped the heavy ring now knotted around his neck on an old leather thong in one pudgy hand and frowned. Alfred was the man of the house now; he would take care of Ma and Mattie._

"_Why such a solemn face, laddie?"_

_Alfred whipped his head up to meet the smiling face of an old traveler; he was stoop-shouldered, with a kind wrinkled face and long white beard. A stained blue traveling cloak covered an equally worn leather jerkin and pants, and a gnarled walking stick was clutched in his right hand. What caught Alfred's gaze, however, were the man's eyes. They were a blue so deep they almost melted into his pupils, and despite his friendly demeanor Alfred went a little cold._

"_My Pa died," Alfred replied, the words spilling out of his mouth against his will. "Funeral's today."_

"_Ah," the traveler mused. "And why are you here then, rather than there?"_

_Alfred scowled. He didn't need some stranger telling him what to do!_

"_They're all cryin', and it's stupid."_

"_Most folks cry when a loved one dies, little one," the man admonished. "Are you not sad?"_

"_Course I'm sad, he was my pa!" Alfred shouted indignantly. "But cryin' ain't no use- don't bring him back none. An' he died a hero, so it ain't a bad way. I'm __**proud**__."_

_He was more than a bit surprised when the man laughed aloud, ruffling Alfred's hair and sitting down beside him._

"_You must be one of the Williams boys then, eh? Your pa was Alphonse the hunter?"_

_Alfred nodded, a bit wary now. Didn't Ma tell him not to talk to strangers?_

"_So you said it wasn't a 'bad way'. Did you mean because he died to save others?"_

"_Uhn," Alfred agreed. "He saved __**eight**__ people from drownin', and they all gots families. He'd say it was worth it."_

"_So he would have," the old man said, smiling to himself. "And what of you, laddie? Would you be a hero as well?"_

"_Yeah!" Alfred exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pointing skyward. "I'm gonna be the best hero ever, an' protect Ma and Mattie and __**everyone**__!"_

"_Everyone? And how will you do that?"_

_Grinning, he leaned over and grabbed a stone the size of a man's head in his tiny hands, hefted it over his shoulder, and hurled it thirty feet to smash into a powder against a small boulder. "Like that, old man!"_

_Far from looking impressed, the traveler's laughter grew into outright guffaws. _

"_Might makes right, is it?" he chuckled. "But I wonder if your heart is as strong as your arm? Aren't you afraid that you'll die just like your father playing the hero?"_

"_I ain't afraid of dyin'," Alfred proclaimed, hands on his small hips._

"_No? What are you afraid of then?"_

_Alfred paused a moment, unsure. He __**wanted**__ to say he wasn't afraid of anything, but that just wasn't true. Plus, Pa always said only fools weren't afraid of anything. Looking up into those fathomless eyes, all Alfred could give was the truth._

"_Ghosts."_

_This time, the old man had tears streaming down his weathered face from the force of his giggles. _

"_Oh, laddie, you're a rare one you are," he wheezed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. "Death doesn't scare you, only those whose pitiful souls tried to cheat it. Oh yes, you are the one. I wasn't sure which of you it would be, but it's you of a surety."_

"_Uh, okay," Alfred said. "I don't get it, but okay. Who are you anyway, old man?"_

"_I am a traveler of faraway lands, a conjurer of wonders, and a spoke in the wheel of time, laddie." Those indigo eyes swirled with brighter golden lights, reminding Alfred of the sun glinting off the winter ice on the Quadrille. "But you can just call me Old Man, Alfred."_

_The Old Man stood up, dusting off the seat of his cloak and drawing his hood up around his wild white hair. "We'll meet again, laddie, so keep a weather eye out."_

_It wasn't until the dark form had been swallowed by the forest that Alfred realized the Old Man knew his name- without Alfred having said a word._

It would be over five years before they would meet again.

_Alfred was nine years old, and he was once again huddled under the Great Oak trying not to cry. Alfred had gotten Arthur into trouble, so his friend was now stuck in the manor doing lessons; and he had __**accidentally**__ broken Matthew's favorite toy. His Ma had been furious, and had told Alfred to go "find somethin' to occupy yourself that won't wreck anythin', for Death's sake". Having found nothing that met her specifications, Alfred was now engaging in a very non-heroic occupation- sulking._

"_Will I ever see a smile on that face, laddie?"_

_Alfred wiped the tears of frustration out of his eyes with his shirtsleeve, beaming up at the newcomer as best he could._

"_Ah, now that's more like it. I've heard all about you around town, Alfred Williams, and it's your smile that you're known for."_

"_Old Man," Alfred greeted, waving one hand. "It's been a long time."_

_The old traveler grinned, his aged face and worn clothing just the same as Alfred remembered. He shifted a patched satchel from his shoulder, sitting next to the boy and spreading out a blanket from its depths. Alfred's face lit up as his companion laid out a small picnic before them, fresh-baked bread, a small wheel of goat cheese, shiny red apples and most interestingly, a fat slice of chocolate cake. Cake was for __**rich**__ people, especially chocolate. Alfred had tried it a few times at Arthur's, when his friend could sweet talk the cook into sneaking some to him and the twins; it was his favorite food in the whole world. _

"_How'd ya know about the chocolate?"_

"_Ah, Alfred," the Old Man laughed. "I told you, I've been asking about you around town, keeping up with your life. Didn't I say you were a rare one? You intrigued me on our first meeting and I wanted to know more."_

"_Ya coulda just asked __**me**__. This is creepy."_

_The man shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned. "I'm talking to you now, aren't I boy?" He handed Alfred a slice of bread spread thickly with cheese and honey. "Now, tell me about your life, Alfred. And about this new friend of yours- Arthur, is it?"_

"_Uhn," Alfred agreed. "Arthur's my best friend! He's smart and a powerful magician and __**real **__pretty." His chest puffed up, proud. "I'm gonna take real good care of him someday, when I'm bigger." _

"_Are you now?" the Old Man replied. "And how will you do that? From what I've heard, the boy has a magical talent that is almost unheard-of. He's wealthy, and even if he is not first-born he is a member of one of the oldest Houses in Spades. What can you give him?"_

"_Happiness," Alfred whispered, a confident smile on his doll-like features. "I'm the only one that can make Arthur smile, and that's more important than money and power. I'm gonna marry him, and then I can make him smile every day."_

"_Marry him, eh?" The Old Man returned Alfred's smile with a brilliant one of his own. "Yes, I think that he'll do for you, laddie. You need someone to keep you in line, after all."_

After their picnic in the woods, Alfred saw the Old Man every few months. He would show up unannounced, always when Alfred was alone, and they would eat together and talk of Alfred's life. In return, the Old Man would tell him fantastical stories about his travels; the magic of other kingdoms, strange creatures that lived in the Acquarossa Reefs of Hearts or beyond the Icebreaks at the Northern borders of Spades, tales of warriors and kings long dead. Sometimes the old sorcerer would teach him about the element of air, of the magic of time and death woven into the very fabric of the land of Spades. He seemed proud of Alfred as he grew, impressed by how quickly he learned and by his sunny attitude. Until…

_Alfred, for the first time in his memory, allowed himself to weep openly. His eyes were swollen and red, his heaving sobs wretched sounding in the still forest. His Arthur was gone, gone to Merica to become Queen, and with him all of Alfred's dreams. He hadn't wanted much- just Arthur and Mattie and his Ma to love and protect. So why was it taken from him?_

"_Oh, laddie. I'm so very sorry," the Old Man said, resting a gentle hand on Alfred's forehead. Alfred was never surprised anymore by his appearance, so he did not startle. Rather, he leaned into that comforting pressure and cried harder. _

"_He's…he's…gone," Alfred hiccupped. "My Artie. I'll never see him again, never make him smile again, never marry him and protect him and love him."_

_The elder man slid down the trunk of the tree to pull Alfred into his lap, despite the boy's growing height. He cuddled the child to his chest, petting his hair and making soothing sounds. "There, there boyo. __**Never**__ is a very long time, and a very final word. We should never say never."_

"_But he's __**Queen**__ now. And I'm just a peasant."_

"_You were always a peasant and he a noble, lad. Why let one more title get in the way?"_

_Alfred snorted, a jaded sound too cynical for his tender years. "It's not allowed. And we can't just march into Merica to see him."_

"_That doesn't sound like the Alfred I know," the Old Man scolded. "The Alfred I know had plans to be a great hero. He had plans to make the world sit up and take notice. Will he give up so easily? What would Arthur say if he knew?"_

"_I don't know," the boy wailed. "I don't know what he'd say because he's not here and won't ever be again!"_

_The Old Man grasped Alfred's chin firmly between his thumb and forefingers, tilting the boy's face up to meet his own. Those orbs of power were dancing in the sorcerer's eyes again, casting deep shadows into the man's face and making it seem, just for a moment, as though it were a skull. "You do know, eh? You claim to love him so much, does that not mean he is in your heart whether he is physically by your side or not? Did you stop loving your father when he was gone from sight? __**What would Arthur say**__?"_

_Fat silver tears rolled down the boy's round cheeks, but his lips firmed with resolve. "He'd tell me I'm a damned idiot who doesn't know his arse from a hole in the ground and that if I stopped living because of this he'd find a way to kick me around with his magic all the way from Merica."_

"_Damn right he would, the little tyrant," the Old Man chuckled. "Now, let's chin up and have a nosh. I wager that if you are patient and persevere, you will learn that nothing is quite as tragic as it seems."_

And so their meetings continued. Over the next eight years, the Old Man's appearances were sporadic, oddly enough occurring only when Gilbert was absent from Albion. Alfred was not quite sure why he had never told a soul, even Arthur or Mattie, about the Old Man. Every time he tried, his mind would just seem to slide off to another topic. Alfred could not keep the knowledge of his true identity from his mysterious friend either; the Old Man had just seemed to _know. _Secretly Alfred felt it was a relief to be able to talk to someone about his uncertain future, though he did ask once if the magician worked for Hierophant City like Uncle Gil.

"_Work __**for**__ Hierophant City, my boy? Not…exactly. But close enough for your purposes I suppose."_

Their last encounter occurred only a month before King Dylan's death.

"_Ha! I'm taller than you now, Old Man!"_

_Alfred's boasting drew a quick bark of laughter from his on-again off-again companion. "And well you might be, lad. You're nineteen now, and a man grown." Those dark, twinkling eyes grew nostalgic. "You've come a long way from that chubby toddler I first met, hmm?"_

"_Aw, cut it out," Alfred laughed, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The Old Man ran his hands over the trunk of the Great Oak, slipping his fingers into the deep, splintered indent at shoulder height. "Oh, that. Mattie got dumped by the candlemaker's daughter yesterday. I told him it was a bad idea to court girls that come 'round cause of me, but he keeps sayin' 'waste not, want not'. The idiot."_

"_Your…" the Old Man broke off, snickering. "Your brother picks up your leavings?"_

_Alfred shrugged. "I don't court no one, so he figures it's a waste of that pretty face people keep sayin' we've got."_

"_And why not, Alfred? You're a young, handsome man. So why refuse all those suitors?"_

"_You know why," Alfred responded quietly. "My heart was given away a long time ago, and I ain't ready to give up on that yet. Not until we see each other again and he tells me face to face he doesn't want me like that. Plus, we'd just have to give up any lover when we go to Merica."_

"_True enough," the Old Man sighed. "And things in Merica are grave right now. Things in Spades are grave right now. King Dylan has let relations with Hearts fall into complete disrepair, despite the best efforts of our favorite tyrant Queen. The Jack of Clubs has familial ties to the Suicide King, making it likely that those two nations will ally- and Clubs has hated Spades since the days of the First Royals."_

"_What of Diamonds?" Alfred asked, thinking of the horrors that could come from a war with a nation a stone's throw across the Quadrille. "I thought they were neutral in pretty much everything?"_

_The Old Man stroked his beard thoughtfully. "They are. That Jack of theirs is a staunch isolationist and a businessman above all, and his sister the Queen is of a sweet, peaceful temperament. But their King? The man is a coward and a sensualist, as you well know. He will stay on the sidelines until the winner becomes apparent, and then ally himself to suit his best interests and keep his Kingdom free. The ties between House Bonnefoy and House Kirkland are all that keeps Diamonds allied with Spades right now, laddie."_

"_Arthur hates Francis," Alfred sniffed. "I can't see that changing."_

"_Mmm," the elder agreed. "True, but House Bonnefoy and House Kirkland are far larger than Francis and Arthur, even if they are royalty. Diamonds also has business reasons to stay on the good side of Spades until a war breaks out; all kingdoms may import the bulk of their food products from Diamonds, but Spades is the only kingdom they seek significant imports from in return. They need the metal ores mined in our great mountains and our technology to keep those rolling farmlands running."_

"_This crap is too complicated. Mattie would understand this stuff way better than I would," Alfred said, gazing up at the sky with a pensive look in his clear blue eyes. "He'll be the one, I'm sure. I'd never be able to keep up."_

_The Old Man grinned, lighting an ancient pipe and blowing smoke rings Alfred's way. "Ah, but that is what all the nobles are like, and why Hoyle is the way it is right now. Even the administrators of Hierophant City have become __**politicians.**__" The last word was spat out between clenched teeth. "Perhaps the land needs someone different from all that, laddie."_

_He reached over and tapped Alfred's left upper chest, an eerie glow lighting his eyes. "Someone with a strong heart might be just what the Gods ordered, eh?"_

"Oh," the man laughed, drawing back his hood to reveal a shock of wild white hair and a devilish smirk. "You'd be surprised at the places I can get into, my boyo."

"What are you doing here, anyway? You know the guards will throw you in the dungeons if they catch you," Alfred replied, resting his elbows on his knees. An amused look crossed that familiar wrinkled face.

"Oh, Alfred dear. I'd love to see them try." With a sprightly air that belied his age, the Old Man hopped up onto the dais and plopped into the Queen's throne, draping his legs over one carved arm. "Lovely place, this. I've always loved the Great Hall, particularly in the summer when the sunshine hits those stained glass windows near the roof vaults. It throws those flower patterns on the stones and makes the floor a garden."

Alfred frowned, his elegant brows dipping low on his forehead. "You're being quite flippant."

"And you've dropped the homespun accent. When are you going to let on to your Queen and your Jack that you are cleverer than you appear?"

"Artie's supposed to know anyway," Alfred pouted. "And Yao is condescending and boring. For all his lauded wisdom, he should be able to see past first appearances."

"That he should, lad," was the easy reply. "But he's hardly had time. I think that baby-faced old man will surprise you. Yao, Arthur, and Alfred. Yes, you'll balance nicely if you can keep from killing one another at first. Just like _them_."

"Them?"

"The First. They were of your same Houses, remember, and hated one another on sight. But they learned to value their differences, as will you three."

"Knock off the benevolent sage bit, Old Man." Alfred rolled his eyes, sitting up straight and placing his hands properly on the throne. "You act like you were there or something, and it's irritating. I'm more worried about having been Chosen in the first place. I always thought it would be Mattie- then I could have been the Captain of his guard, and protected him and Arthur as long as I lived. Now, I don't know what to do."

An enigmatic smile twisted the Old Man's thin lips. "You'll know what to do when the time comes, laddie. Didn't I tell you that what Spades needs is your strong heart? Stay true to that, and you'll never steer wrong."

The next five days flew by for Alfred. There was so much information crammed into his head- the layout of the palace, the names and jobs of the various functionaries, and worst of all lessons with an increasingly irritable Arthur. Alfred would not be meeting the Elder Council, the Priests of the Winds, or the Commanders of his army until the day of his coronation, and the announcement of his Choosing was made by Yao alone. His personal guard had a few tense moments when Matthew's appointment as Captain was announced, before he and Matthew took to the practice field and ran their paces. Their arrows went straight through the set targets, their sword swings cut dummies in half with a single swipe, and their wrestling demolished an entire quadrant of the yard- and it became clear to those watching the laughing taunts the twins exchanged that the boys were just _playing_.

Arthur had watched with wide-eyed incredulity. Apparently he had been unprepared for the disproportionate increase in strength that puberty had brought the twins, and Arthur did not enjoy surprises. He became short-tempered with both boys (particularly Alfred) as their lessons progressed, unsatisfied with their level of political knowledge, their language skills (again, mostly Alfred), and their familiarity with other kingdoms. Matthew had taken the abuse with his usual quiet resignation but Alfred, lonely and out of place and a little heartsick from Arthur's avoidance, had snapped back.

"Sweet Death, Artie, lay off us!" Alfred yelled, banging his fist into the thick oak of the library table. "We didn't exactly have time to hit the books while scrounging for a living on the banks of the Quadrille and simultaneously keeping our strength and identity hidden. You can't expect us to have the knowledge you nobles are drilled with from birth, since we had to _work_ to survive!"

"What I expect is that you take the gravity of your situation and station into account!" Arthur replied nastily, shaking the scroll he had been reading in Alfred's face. "You _must_ learn how things are done here, how a King of Spades is meant to behave and what he is meant to know!"

"Meant to know? Meant to behave?" Alfred's voice was low and dangerous, his summer eyes glowing with a gathering nimbus of power. "What I _know_ is that Dylan Bruce, properly educated noble, fucked this Kingdom into the ground and brought us to the brink of war. Hearts was the balance that kept Spades and Clubs from open hostility, and Dylan's _behavior_ broke our ties with them- possibly irreparably. How I _mean to behave_ is the opposite of the politicians the Royals have all become." A wry twist of Alfred's lips and the rush of wind through his hair underscored his quiet words. "A wise man told me that Spades needed my heart more than anything else, and my heart it shall have."

Even Matthew looked surprised at the abrupt change in Alfred's speech patterns and his political discourse. Arthur, however, grew even angrier.

"So you can speak like an educated man rather than a backwater hick," he said, throwing the scroll to the table in disgust. "And you've been paying far more attention to world affairs than you've indicated- with a tutor, no less. Any other secrets you mean to keep from me, poppet? I think I have had enough in the past few days, thank you."

Alfred grabbed his wrist as the Queen began to storm out, spinning him back around to face accusing eyes.

"You never underestimated me when we were children, Arthur. You knew I wasn't as stupid as I let on, yet now you act as though you expect me to pick my teeth with my knife at the dinner table or spit on the floor. And," he hissed through clenched teeth, "we taught you better than to be such a damned snob. What happened?"

"You left me alone here is what happened, you lout!" Arthur yanked his hand from Alfred's iron grip, massaging the fragile bones of his wrist. "You knew we'd meet again, and you got to stay with the ones you loved and who loved you. But I- I was shipped back here to the damned Capitol! Back to a family who disdained me, even Royal. To brothers who used my position to sink into debauchery and ruin the family name, to parents who banished me in the first place. To eight years of battles with a King who despised me and a Jack who thinks I am no more than a child with a horrid temper. And yet you dare to criticize what I had to do to cope?" Arthur stabbed a single finger into Alfred's chest, hard enough to bruise. "I am a monarch now, not a child. I do not have the luxury of gadding about with the commoners having fun. I have to rule here in this nest of vipers, with other Royals who will use your background against you in a heartbeat if they discover your ignorance of protocol. I am _trying to protect you, you twit!_"

"Well excuse the hell out of me if it feels more like you hate me and are blaming me for events I had no control over!"

Matthew coughed uncomfortably, rising to try and play peacemaker, when the door to the study burst open to reveal a frazzled Yao.

"The Diamond Royalty is _here_. Two days early," Yao panted, cooling himself with a paper fan drawn from his voluminous sleeve. A frown creased his youthful brow. "Francis wants to meet with Alfred, aru. He says he will not believe that a Jones holds the Spirit King's throne until he sees it for himself, and refuses to wait for the coronation in four days to do so."

"Fine." "Absolutely not!"

Arthur and Alfred glared daggers at their simultaneous proclamations, Matthew sinking back into his chair to drop his head onto the desk.

"You're not ready!"

"We don't have a choice!"

"Of course we do- we tell the frog to _sod off_!"

"He's King of the last suit we still have any sort of relations with; we can't just tell him to screw himself!"

"Watch me!"

"With this attitude you're just as much of a problem as Dylan Bruce was!"

"You self-righteous little bastard- I've spent the last eight years dealing with that fop's sneers and condescension, as well as his _miserable_ attempts to bed me, so you have no right to comment on my attitude!"

"CHILDREN!" Yao actually tore his fan in frustration.

"Shut it, you idiots." Arthur and Alfred both growled at the newcomer in the doorway. Gilbert slouched against the jamb, eating an apple and clearly not caring one bit about the royals' animosity. "For once, Al, I agree with Eyebrows. Tell Francis he'll just have to wait like everyone else. Ally or no, you'll make it worse if you storm down to see him without thinking."

Yao sighed. "The Joker is correct. It may also be a diplomatic error to see him first."

"Ah," Alfred replied, running a hand through his hair. "Because it will give the impression of special treatment of Diamonds to Hearts and Clubs?"

"Indeed," the Jack answered, a considering look in his eyes. "If we mean to repair the breach with the other suits, Hearts particularly…"

"Then we cannot afford to play on old stereotypes that we are in league with Diamonds," Alfred finished. "All right, Yao. Send Bonnefoy's entourage wherever they are supposed to be staying in the palace, and I'll stay out of sight until the Coronation. Mattie too."

Yao ignored Matthew's grumbles that no one would notice him if he stood in the Great Hall naked and danced a jig anyway, and drew Alfred down to his eye level by the collar. The new king blushed under the intense scrutiny of those dark brown eyes, but held firm. Then, Yao did something unexpected- he smiled.

"I do not know why you have chosen to wear the mask of the Fool, despite being Death's creature, but it is a skillful one and may be to our advantage. Let the other Royals believe this honest face and simple speech are the measure of you, and we may regain some ground Dylan lost." Yao heaved a breath that ruffled a few strands of hair from his eyes. "If dealing with the two of you doesn't kill me first. Aiyah."

The Jack left to see to the accommodations of their guests, snagging Gilbert's jacket to drag him along. Matthew trailed behind, still mumbling to himself. Alfred and Arthur were left suddenly alone, and the silence that followed was possibly the most durable Alfred had ever experienced. After ten solid minutes of staring at their boots, Alfred cleared his throat. "Well, I should go…"

Arthur caught his wrist. "No. I…Alfred, I didn't…I mean…oh, bollocks." The queen flopped down into a nearby chair, legs splayed over one arm in an indelicate manner the refined man would usually die rather than show to anyone. That, more than any words he stumbled over, spoke of an olive branch to Alfred. "I know you aren't stupid, pet. I should have, at any rate. And I know that our circumstances were not of your doing. It was…wrong of me to blame you for them."

Alfred sat down at Arthur's feet, laying his head on the seat next to the elder's hip. "Aw, I know you didn't _really_ mean it, Artie. It had to have been hard for you here. This place is so damn _cold_. Not just the weather but it seems like someone sucked all the love and life outta this city a long time ago and left it here to freeze into the mountain. We had it rough, Mattie and Ma and me, but we had each other." Lifting his chin, Alfred locked eyes upside-down with Arthur and threw him a watery smile. "I thought maybe when you came back _Queen_ your family would…I dunno."

"Love me?" Arthur laughed, twisting the fingers of his right hand in Alfred's bangs. "No, Alfred. That is not how nobility in Merica operates. I told you once nobles have far less freedom than the poor, when you get down to it. And now you're to be thrown into this den of iniquity too- you, who can't imagine the petty ugliness that lives in mens' hearts because you are too honest for it yourself. Ah, Alfred. Death help us. Death help us both."

Alfred remembered with sudden clarity the Old Man's face as his power gathered, the way the image of a grinning skull seemed set over his own, and connected for the first time who the wizard might serve. "I think he's watching over us, Arthur. But we can't rely on our God- we'll have to make our way ourselves." He gripped Arthur's slender fingers in his own calloused ones tight enough to whiten the knuckles. "Together?"

Arthur's doubts were still there, his old anger at his seeming abandonment still simmering under the surface, but the surety that had always been in Alfred's every word and deed made him do something he hadn't done in the eight years he'd been in the capitol- _believe_. "Together, darling. Together."


End file.
